


A lesson from Russia (with love)

by Evil_Keshi



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Fluff, M/M, Pianist Bucky Barnes, Romance, Single Parent Bucky, Teacher Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-05-05 17:19:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 64,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5383961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evil_Keshi/pseuds/Evil_Keshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Steve notices that Alexei's grades in English aren't too good and are constantly dropping, he offers to tutor the young Russian boy to help him back on his feet. Because he is a caring and worried teacher, of course. Also, did he mention that Alexei's dad is really hot? Oops.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone ! This fic has haunted me for a year already so I finally gave in and decided to do something about it. I hope you will enjoy this new fanfiction of mine and please don't forget to leave some feedback !
> 
> The title is, obviously, derived from Ian Fleming's _From Russia, with Love_.

  


When he was a kid, Steve used to dream that he would get in the army once he'd be old enough, so that his daddy could be proud of him for falling into his footsteps, and he used to believe that his father would smile at him from Heaven. Fate had never much agreed with that idea though: Steve had been a sickly child, always halfway through hacking up a lung or in the middle of an asthma attack, always somewhat feverish or doomed with a running nose. Not to mention his frail... Well, everything, really: fragile bones, weak heart, tiny wrists, blah blah blah. Not much chance to get into the army, right?

And by the time he had finally accepted to give up on that plan and had decided that he wanted to become a teacher instead, _of course_ puberty had finally hit and he'd found himself having to look down to actually meet people's eyes, to go on a shopping spree to buy clothes that would fit him and this new body he sometimes had a hard time controlling - balance had not been fun to relearn. He still got sick easily, although not every two weeks anymore, and his asthma would never fully disappear but now at least, light variations in temperature didn't cause an attack like they used to.

More importantly, at almost thirty, he was now healthy enough to be respected by the teens he taught, which maybe wouldn't have been the case if he'd stayed small and skinny. It had its downsides though, one of them being the enamoured girls who were, no surprise, more often than not seated in the front rows so that they could follow his every move with wide, shining eyes.

"Chris, tip that chair back once more and you stand for the rest of the lesson, got it?" Steve warned sternly as he gave back the graded tests from the previous week to his young students from sixth grade.

The boy looked down guiltily and brought back the four legs of his chair on the floor, before he smiled sheepishly at his teacher. The kids knew the rules since the beginning of the school year as Steve always preferred to give them the heads-up rather than punishing them, so Chris was well aware that tipping back was not allowed, for obvious safety matters.

When the bell finally announced the end of his English class and the start of lunchtime, two dozens of excited preteens grabbed their bags and headed out faster than they jotted down their homework, yet Steve still managed to get to one of the kids before he left.

"Alexei, I'd like to talk to you for a second," he said gently not to alarm the boy, whom he knew was a little shy and especially so in front of his teachers.

The kid looked up, startled, and had to brush a few strands of jet black hair away from his green eyes so that he could see his teacher standing in front of him, and he nearly dropped his bag.

"I... I did something wrong, Mister Rogers?" he stammered.

"No, no, nothing like that !" Steve immediately answered with a reassuring smile that made Alexei's wide eyes clear in relief. "I just want to talk to you about your grades in my class. You do just fine in the other classes but your first test in English a few weeks ago wasn't too good and the others weren't much better."

"I'm sorry..." Alexei whispered, staring at his shoes as if he was afraid to look at his teacher in the eyes and see disappointment in them.

"Hey, I'm not mad at you," Steve added gently. "It's not a disaster but I wouldn't want you to fail in this class when you're doing so well in the others. I noticed that the grammar seemed hard for you... Is there something you don't understand? Maybe I didn't explain it quite the right way for you?"

Alexei seemed to hesitate as he wrung his hands nervously, but in the end he didn't say anything.

"You can take your time to think about it," Steve offered. "If you want to write down some questions and show them to me in a few days, it's fine. But we should do something about it."

The boy mumbled something that Steve couldn't hear and then, as if Alexei had noticed it on his own, he repeated, voice a bit louder but still shy:

"English isn't my first language, Mister Rogers."

Oh. What ? But... How could Steve not know that? Why had no one thought that maybe that was some detail he would want to be made aware of? Who was Alexei's homeroom teacher again? Stark. Maybe Tony had forgotten to tell him... But that explained a lot, actually. Like that gentle, almost imperceptible accent that mostly went unnoticed since the boy didn't speak much in class. Or the grammar and spelling mistakes.

"Oh," Steve voiced his surprise. "May I know what it is, then?"

"Russian, Mister Rogers."

Steve almost laughed at himself but held back just in time so that the boy wouldn't think that his teacher was mocking him; of course it was Russian. _Alexei_ couldn't be considered a common American name, to say the truth. Perhaps he should have noticed earlier, although the kid's last name, Barnes, didn't sound Russian at all.

"Alright. Well, now I understand a bit better... Your English isn't bad per se but I think you might lack some basic notions, nothing that can't be fixed with a little work though. Alexei, do you think your father could meet me during the parent-teacher conference next Friday?"

If there was one thing Steve wanted to know about his students from the beginning of the year, it was the composition of their family; not out of pure curiosity of course, but to make sure that he wouldn't say anything wrong or inappropriate when discussing the topic of parents - he'd once had a little girl burst into tears at the mention of her mother, who was in the Army overseas and whom she missed a lot.

So, every September, Steve got his kids to fill in a sheet with their name, their parents' and a phone number he could call if there was any problem at school. He tried to remember the family composition as best as he could and in Alexei's case, he distinctly recalled that he lived with his father only, James Barnes, whose phone number had been carefully written down at the bottom of the page, just above the number of Clint Barton (or something like that), a close friend of his dad that Steve should call if Mr. Barnes himself couldn't be reached.

"I... I think it's possible," Alexei said quietly. "I'll ask him today."

Steve nodded.

"Good," he smiled. "That's all then, you can go."

Alexei literally fled from the classroom and Steve, a little dumbfounded, wondered if he was _that_ scary.

  


  


When Steve came back home, he allowed himself to take a break for a few minutes before he would have to start grading the test his senior class had taken today; he was in no hurry though, since the glimpse he'd managed to get during the test as he walked around the classroom hadn't left much of an impression on him... Maybe a few of them would get the right answers but... He didn't have much hope.

Steve was sipping on his coffee, sitting on his couch with his legs bent under himself, when his mind drifted back to Alexei and the conversation they'd had a few hours earlier. The kid was eleven, maybe twelve, still young enough to fix his English... But not without help, of course. Steve had to talk to the boy's father first though, both to explain the problem and see if maybe Mr. Barnes could do something himself; if they spoke Russian at home, trying to switch to English could be helpful. Well, depending on Mr. Barnes' skills in English of course, assuming that Russian was his first language as well.

Next thing he knew, Steve had grabbed his laptop and was looking up some basic Russian lessons: the knowledge of this language was not his forte - okay, fine, he knew nothing at all save for the usual _yes_ and _no_ that everyone liked to be able to say in other languages - let alone its alphabet, and he needed to educate himself a little before establishing a framework for Alexei.

Pupils narrowing to small slits in his concentration, Steve spent the major part of his evening looking for the differences between Russian and English grammar or syntax, the most common mistakes but also online programs for Russian-speaking children who had to learn English... And he cringed when he found out that a few of those online classes taught some pretty big mistakes. He hoped that Alexei hadn't used these, or else he would have to work even harder than planned to catch up: filling a gap in someone's knowledge was easier than fixing a wrong idea deeply engraved in one's head.

When Steve went to bed that night, after a quick dinner made of the leftovers from the previous day, he dreamt that every letter of the Cyrillic alphabet had tiny legs they used to run after him and kick his ass. Nice.

  


  


Parent-teacher conferences were exhausting. They usually took place after the work hours so that at least one of the two parents could be present and no matter how dedicated a teacher you were, staying late at school on a Friday evening was not the way most of Steve's colleagues (himself included) liked to spend the beginning of their weekend.

These meetings were useful though, he would be the first to admit to it. Sometimes, meeting a kid's parents could explain lots about said child's behaviour in class, both in a good or a bad way. Steve didn't think he would ever forget the boy with the self-esteem issues he'd had in his class a few years prior: for the whole thirty minutes his mother had talked to him, she had kept on repeating that her son didn't do well enough in this or that class, even though his grades were more than satisfying, that he should give up on his violin lessons, that she was so proud of her daughter for being a successful lawyer and she hoped her son would do the same... While the kid wanted to train police dogs.

Sometimes, it was hard for Steve to remain the professional teacher and keep some distance with kids who might... resonate with him. He knew how it felt to be looked down upon or be told that he was a foolish dreamer... But he couldn't project onto those teens, he had to be there and give them as much support and advice as he could, still while playing the role of teacher and not of a substitute parent.

Steve also had the opportunity to meet some parents whose kids didn't get in trouble of any sort but who just wanted to chat with the guy their son or daughter kept talking about, which was actually really validating: hearing that you were close to a teenager's role model for some of the students felt like euphoria.

Well, Steve was also confronted to single mothers sometimes, but let's not talk about that.

This time, the round of meetings went fairly well, up until the point where a mom walked in with her twin babies and one of them decided that Steve's shirt was too plain to his liking and proceeded to redecorate the fabric with spat-up milk.

One sour-smelling shirt and a quick bathroom break later, Steve was shivering in his t-shirt only and craving for his bed and some chocolate, but he put on his perfect-teacher-bright-smile and carried on for one more hour and half.

And then, when he'd escorted the last father out of his classroom, when Steve finally thought that he would be able to go home and nosedive under his blanket, he heard a soft knock rasping against the door.

Holding back a desperate whimper, Steve tiredly opened the door with a small smile that nearly vanished when he caught sight of the man on the other side. Whoa. That was one finely chiselled jaw. With a chin dimple. Was that legal ? Wait, he'd seen this face somewhere already...

"Hi," the (unfairly good-looking) man said sheepishly, peering up at the teacher from under long and dark lashes. "Uh... Steve Rogers?"

"That's him. Me. I'm Steve," the blond teacher stammered, a little dazed when eyes clearer than his own and almost a greyish blue met his.

"I'm James Barnes," the other man introduced himself, extending a hand that Steve immediately shook briefly, "I know I'm late for this parent-teacher conference and I'm sorry, I work late on Fridays... I came here as fast as I could. Am I too late? Do you want to reschedule?"

"No, no! Please, come in and have a seat!" Steve exclaimed, stepping aside to allow entrance to Mr. Barnes - noticing half-long hair tied into a small bun at the back of his head as the man passed him by.

"Thank you," James said with a relieved smile as he sat.

"So..." Steve began while he took his seat in front of the man, across his desk. "You are Alexei's father, right?"

Of course he was, dummy. Alexei looked so much like his dad, the same dark brown hair and face, the same dimple... The eyes, though, the eyes were different: the boy's were green, shy and young while James' were colder, although not unkindly so.

"Yeah..." Mr. Barnes said softly. "He told me last Monday that you wanted to talk to me? He didn't tell me why, though. Is he in trouble?"

"Not at all," Steve said, offering the same comforting smile he'd given to Alexei a few days earlier. "Actually, this is about his English. He said his first language was Russian?"

After a sharp nod on Mr. Barnes' part, Steve kept going.

"Alexei seems to have some problems with the English grammar and the mechanisms of the language, which shows in his grades for my class. Sometimes he doesn't use verbs in sentences or he gets confused between several prepositions or tenses. I think he could benefit from some tutoring so that he could learn or maybe relearn some of the basics... Can I ask you a question, Mister Barnes?"

"Sure, go ahead," James tilted his head to the side, waiting.

"Is Russian your first language as well?"

"No, second one," the man answered, shifting a little on his chair. "I'm from Brooklyn, born and bred, although I spent the last ten years in Russia... Alexei was born there, so I raised him speaking Russian most of the time, English only came later. And we've tried to only talk together in English since we came back in America, six months ago but... I guess I haven't done such a good job, right?"

Steve nearly chocked in his hurry to clear up any misunderstandings:

"Oh God no, that's not what I meant! I guess it isn't easy to juggle two languages at such a young age. Actually, if you never signed him up to actual English classes, you did a pretty great job, trust me. I've heard far worse."

"Thanks... I... You know, sometimes I notice small mistakes but... I never point them out, I don't want him to think that he isn't doing good enough. Is it bad?"

Steve took the time to think about it and chose his words carefully not to upset the man who was expectantly looking at him.

"I think you want your kid to feel comfortable with this new language, not self-conscious. But when he was younger and just started to talk, you did correct his pronunciation and other things like that, didn't you?"

"Right," James replied with a soft smile, as if remembering a funny episode of Alexei's childhood. "So I guess I should do the same now but in English."

"Yes," Steve confirmed. "But don't focus on that aspect too much, I mean, your conversations can't become a grammar test. That's my role."

The smile he flashed the other man was returned in kind, then James leaned back in his chair and asked in earnest:

"How exactly does this tutoring system work?"

"Usually, we get our senior students to tutor the younger kids," Steve explained. "But since teaching someone who speaks another first language is a little different, I think it would be better if a teacher could tutor your son, either myself or someone else, as you wish."

"I'd rather have you do it, if it fits your schedule," James said softly, "Alexei is quite shy and I'm not sure that introducing him to yet another teacher would help him... Maybe he'd need to adjust to new teaching methods and... Well, honestly, he likes you. You have no idea how much he talks about you at home, _Mister Rogers this_ and _Mister Rogers that_... I think we'd get better results faster if he learns with someone he knows and trusts."

Steve felt his cheeks burn and he was positive that his face was all flushed now but... Young hot men might or might not be his weakness? And James - who looked too young to even be a dad - was smiling at him and complimenting him, even if it was only on Alexei's behalf, which was so much nicer than the seductive looks the single moms gave him... Stop. Focus. Head in the game, Stevie.

"Thank you," he said, coughing a little to hide his embarrassment. "Uh, would Friday after school work for you? No more than one hour or maybe one hour and half..."

"Yes, it'd be great," James said with another smile, glad that they'd found a way to start working on Alexei's little problem in English.

But now, Steve was the one with the big, big problem: a walking problem with a bun, blue eyes and long legs clad in skinny jeans. Shit. Was he even real? And he looked so young too, maybe younger than him... And he had a kid. A boy in Steve's class, which, in his opinion, made the hot dad off limits, if the probable heterosexuality of said dad wasn't enough of a barrier between Steve and one night of passionate sex.

Which he definitely shouldn't be thinking about while in the same room as James Barnes.

"Don't worry too much about Alexei's English," Steve concluded, trying to block out the thought of this gorgeous man writhing in pleasure in his bed. "He's a smart kid."

"I know," James said, smiling and beaming with pride.

They said their goodbyes then and Steve walked Mr. Barnes to the door; as they shook hands once more, the blond tried to ignore the softness of the skin under his fingertips or the way James' blue eyes shone brighter when he flashed him a last smile.

Maybe he should do something about his sexual frustration, Steve thought as he watched Mr. Barnes walk away, skinny jeans showing off his glorious ass. Maybe he should get laid - and _not_ with James Barnes.

  


  


(Steve didn't get laid. He came home that night and headed straight for his bed after making some tea, and he fell asleep with his cup still in hand. He woke up at two in the morning with a start when it finally slipped from his relaxed grip, soaking the sheets and his thighs with now cold tea. Worst sensation ever.)

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading so far ! Feel free to drop a comment, it would mean the world to me... And help me see if this story's worth continuing or not ;)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of thanks to everyone for the kudos/comments/bookmarks and subscriptions on the first chapter ! I hope you'll keep enjoying the story ;)
> 
> All grammar or spelling mistakes in Alexei's lines are intentional, others are not so feel free to tell me if you spot anything a little off. English translations of the Russian terms are in the end notes. Enjoy the new chapter !

  


  


Steve didn't have a crush. James Barnes was an attractive man, yes, and he had a nice smile and eyes like the sky on a cold winter day but... That was all. Steve had already met tons of handsome guys without crushing on them like the teenage girls he taught did, so why would James - Mr. Barnes - be an exception?

"I don't have a crush on him," Steve said firmly, looking up to meet his friend Sam's gaze.

"Hey, I never said you did," the other man pointed out before he wiggled his eyebrows. "But you did spend the last fifteen minutes waxing poetic about his eyes."

"I didn't!" Steve scoffed - or had he?

Sam simply shrugged and took a sip of his orange juice. It was Sunday, early in the morning but not enough for the park to be empty: runners like them could be seen everywhere but Steve and his buddy had been lucky enough to claim a lone bench as theirs to crash on after their laps.

"I talked to him for... What, twenty minutes at most?" Steve added thoughtfully, eager to make it clear that he did _not_ have a crush, damnit! "Way too short to fall in love, don't you think?"

"Well... You used the L-word, I didn't," Sam laughed. "I just thought since you seemed to like him, you could, you know... You work hard, Steve, you deserve a night off from time to time."

"Are you suggesting I bang him?" Steve asked, eyes widening. "My God, Sam, I don't even know him! He's most likely not even gay!"

"Fine, fine," Sam grumbled, lifting his hands in a placating way to show that he was giving up, trying to soothe his friend. "Forget I said anything. I mean it though, you should go out more and find yourself someone... Long term or not."

Steve didn't answer, not that Sam expected him to: he got his point across at least, it was enough for now and he didn't intend to push his friend any further, especially not on the topic of John Barnes - no, wait, James. Even if Steve liked him, maybe he was right: he didn't know that guy and perhaps doing the horizontal tango with the father of a kid he taught was not the best idea ever.

It was Steve who broke the comfortable silence a few minutes later, as he asked in genuine concern:

"How's your grandma?"

"Not too bad..." Sam replied, looking down and brushing away some invisible dust from his shorts. "She was still awake when I left the retirement home yesterday night and... She didn't have any of her episodes, she remembered me all along. Mom says we can't get our hopes up, because she'll never recover but... It was nice."

Sam's voice was light but he was well aware that he couldn't fool Steve, who had known him for many years: the blond man could see right through him and feel his own pain and helplessness, since Steve knew how close Sam and his grandmother had been and still were, some days, when Alzheimer didn't eat away at all her memories.

Steve kindly rested a hand on Sam's shoulder and squeezed, offering his silent support that he knew his friend needed even though it was not nearly enough, before he added softly:

"Do you think I could go with you the next time you visit her?"

"Of course!" his friend said, a sudden smile illuminating his face. "I think it would make her really happy to see you. She's always had a soft spot for you, I'm almost positive you broke her heart when you told her you were gay and couldn't marry my sister. She still loved you though."

Seeing some happiness come back inside his friend's soft brown eyes made Steve's chest feel lighter all of a sudden. If grandma Wilson had to go, then the blond wanted his friend to remember her like this, healthy and sassy or on her feet and bustling about in her kitchen, slapping their hands away when they tried to steal her cookies, and not fading away in a bed.

"Be happy she didn't decide that I should marry you so I could still enter the family," Steve joked a little, aiming to elbow Sam in the ribs and missing when his friend lifted his juice bottle to his lips again, blocking out his arm. "But everybody loves me anyway."

"True," Sam nodded with a smirk that told Steve he wasn't going to like whatever was coming next. "I'm sure James Barnes would think the same."

And then Sam took off running, cackling like a mad man.

  


  


By the time Friday afternoon and his first tutoring session with Alexei arrived, Steve's desk at home was a mess of graded copies, open books with coloured sticky notes every five pages or so (he hated writing in the margins or worse, between the lines) and dry rings of forgotten coffee mugs stained the light wooden surface. Nothing unusual, except that there was a new addition to this lovely mess: an English-Russian dictionary for beginners - read: Steve.

He was not even sure yet that he would need it or that it would prove useful, especially since he didn't plan on studying the contents of that dictionary, however basic it may be, but at least if Alexei was having trouble with the meaning of a word, he would get back on his feet easily. Plus, reading and learning by himself the matches between the two languages might help the young boy to remember the translations faster, at least if he happened to favour the visual memory system. If not, maybe Steve could lend him a few CD's to listen to, in order to get him used to the typical structure of the English sentences as well as the accurate pronunciation of the language. Making him read aloud would work too, so Steve had picked out a few books that were normally meant for kids just a little under Alexei's own age.

Steve was actually a bit worried: he wasn't familiar with Russian at all and the information he had been able to gather, while respectable, wasn't nearly enough to his liking - although, as Sam would say, Steve was a perfectionist who doubted himself just a little too much. He'd probably be fine, as long as he didn't confuse Alexei even more.

Now, there was also the kid's shyness... Hopefully it wouldn't turn into a problem during their tutoring sessions and Alexei wouldn't feel too apprehensive while being all alone with his teacher... But James had said that his son liked Steve, so... That was something, right? And shit, Steve should really stop calling his student's father by his first name, even in his mind, and stick to Mr. Barnes instead.

Anyways. When they had met, Ja... _Mr. Barnes_ had acknowledged his child's shyness, so it probably was not something new nor induced by their arrival in America; Steve dreaded that perhaps Alexei didn't dare speak in class nor open up to the other students for the same reason: the fear to be laughed at if he made a mistake or pronounced a word the wrong way. After all, wasn't that what every person who learned a new language was scared of?

Now that he thought about it, Steve hadn't seen the boy interact much with the others... Thankfully, school had only started for a month, give or take, so Alexei still had time to make friends - and Steve mentally noted that maybe he could try to help a little with that, too. He would figure something out.

The tiny and tentative smile that Alexei flashed him when he entered Steve's classroom a few minutes after four in the afternoon settled his worry a little, though; the young boy didn't look like he was on the verge of being traumatised for life, or at least not yet, so Steve would take it as a positive element and move on.

"Hi," he greeted the kid shyly standing on the threshold of the classroom. "Come in, come in."

Alexei did so and went to sit at his usual seat, putting his backpack down next to his chair and taking out a notebook and his pencil case before looking expectantly at his teacher.

"Okay..." Steve started as he took a seat as well, a little further away from the boy not to overwhelm him, and propped a notebook on his knee. "Today we will mostly focus on determining the problems to fix them once and for all, so we'll take a look at your previous tests and find the mistakes together. If you have any question, even one that might seem dumb to you, ask away. Is there any specific point you want me to explain?"

Alexei stayed silent for a little while and Steve wondered if maybe he hadn't fully understood the question, but then he noticed that the boy seemed to be thinking about it, so he didn't push and waited for the child to give his answer.

"There's the..." Alexei began hesitantly, struggling for the words. "The verbs with... up, on, out... I don't know where I place them. I don't know if I say _take out something_ or _take something out_ ?"

He finished his sentence with mixed curiosity and frustration in his intonation, and Steve smiled in sympathy.

"Phrasal verbs," he nodded before writing it down. "We will work on that. Anything else you can think of?"

This time, Alexei only shrugged with uncertainty in his eyes and Steve nodded again, before he got up to grab the small pile of tests with the boy's name on the sheets; this time, he sat next to the child so that they were both able to read together at the same time. When he had graded the test, Steve had actually already crossed out or circled the mistakes in red ink, so they weren't hard to spot at all, but while Alexei understood some, some others he didn't.

Eventually, Steve's list of grammatical points and rules to work on had lengthened a little and included phrasal verbs, the proper usage of the past tenses, the verb "to be" as well as the prepositions in a sentence, plus some spelling exercises since Alexei tended to confuse a few words when writing them (peers and pears, for example, and Steve definitely didn't think that _eating peers_ might be an enjoyable experience.)

They started with what seems the most important - and urgent - to Steve, meaning the use of the verb "to be" which Alexei showed a tendency to forget in his sentences.

"You always use it?" the boy asked in wonder, looking up with wide green eyes.

"Yes," Steve confirmed and pointed his index toward the child's test. "See, there, you wrote _she pretty_ but you didn't use any verb. Now, what form should you use?"

"Is?" Alexei asked, smiling when his teacher gave an approving nod of his head. "In Russian, we don't use it always and I forget in English."

" _We don't always use it_ ," Steve corrected the kid gently. "You should place the adverbs of frequency between the subject and the verb in your sentence. So, you don't use "to be" in Russian?"

"Not always," the boy said, shaking his head. "Я Алексéй. I'm Alexei. No verb."

"Well, then that's one big difference with English. Try not to forget the verbs, alright?"

"But..." Alexei grew quiet, hesitated, then spoke up again, "My dad doesn't use them in English, sometimes."

Steve tilted his head to the side and arched both eyebrows, implicitly asking for a detailed explanation. Mr. Barnes had told him that his first language was English and when they had talked together, Steve couldn't remember noticing any mistakes or an accent other than the same as his own, light hint of Brooklyn; however, after living so many years abroad, maybe a few elements of Russian had slipped into his vernacular...

"Sometimes he says... _You dumbass_. And also, _you dipshit_. Is it wrong, Mr. Rogers?"

Oh. Steve tried his best to hold back the laughter threatening to escape his throat but he couldn't help a grin and chirped, amused:

"Yes, okay, sometimes we say that in English too but... Those are bad words, don't use them."

Steve refrained from adding that Mr. Barnes wasn't supposed to say this kind of words in front of his son: after all, even if it was true, he had no say in the way the man raised his child.

"Okay. Usually, he says that when he's driving," Alexei whispered thoughtfully, as if that explained everything - and let's be honest here, it kind of did.

  


  


Steve put an end to his session with Alexei around a quarter past five, when he noticed the child's concentration dropping: he had accidentally answered his teacher's questions in Russian several times already and while Steve did understand what да meant, he was totally lost when the boy uttered anything longer than one-word sentences - not like Russian tutoring was planned anyway. Plus, it was Friday night. The kid deserved to go home and... Well, Steve too, right?

"Alright, Alexei. Enough for tonight, you can go home and I'll see you in class next week. You did great," Steve praised with a smile before he got up and walked towards his desk in order to gather the tests and his various notebooks that always managed to escape his bag whenever he fumbled around for his phone, his keys, or a pen (Steve had noticed that his colleagues, just like him, always had too many pens but could never find one right away.)

The young boy quickly shoved his own notebook in his backpack and jumped to his feet before he bolted to the door in a hurry, without forgetting a polite yet quick _Bye, Mister Rogers !_ that Steve didn't even have the time to reply to.

The teacher shook his head. Children... No matter how focused on their work they seemed to be or how much they liked school, they were always delighted to leave, not that Steve blamed them in any way. He didn't remember his own time in school fondly, what with being a scrawny kid constantly bullied yet still standing up for himself with bony fingers curled into fists, and he used to hate recess - or, as he started to call it, punching bag time. And yet, nearly ten years after graduating from high school, he was still there.

In spite of his own bad experience at school, Steve firmly believed that teaching was the most wonderful job in the world; sure, it wasn't easy sometimes to deal with twenty-five teenagers who were only mildly (at best) interested in what you were saying, nor with the education system and its bullshit but... But. Steve loved the sparks of curiosity and sudden interest he caught in some of his students' eyes whenever he started to get a little too excited about literature. He loved how he got all smiley whenever he graded a copy and saw that one of his kids had looked up some more information than he'd given in class so that they could ace the test - more than the grades themselves, he liked to think that the reason behind this involvement was a sort of fascination for the topic.

More than anything though, he felt content to have an impact on the teenagers he taught, to be a good influence... He tried to be, as much as he could, conducting class debates and making his students aware of inequalities inside and outside of school, of what was worth fighting for. And he was not going to lie, he had once nearly cried when a girl in his senior class had told him that she wanted to become a teacher like him, because kids deserved more teachers who understood them and could inspire them.

Obviously, not every single one of his students thought or acted like this but still. Best. Fucking. Job. Ever.

Steve left his classroom after a few more minutes and bounced to the parking lot where his beloved Harley awaited him. The soft purr of the engine as he turned on the ignition soon grew into a roar and Steve took a moment to relish into the sound he had always associated with freedom, and then he was off in the dark. Right when he was about to leave the school grounds though, he spotted a mop of messy black hair and stopped dead in his tracks.

Alexei was staring at the gravel at his feet that he was disturbing with the point of his left shoe while he leaned back against the school gates... Alone. In the dark. A kid. Steve slowly made his way to the boy and stopped but didn't kill the engine yet, and Alexei looked up, eyes widening in awe at the sight of his teacher's bike.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked. "Is there someone coming to pick you up?"

"Yes," Alexei nodded. "I... didn't catch the bus. My dad works late but he'll come after, I sent a text."

"How late?"

The boy shrugged, hands in his pockets, and said hesitantly:

"He'll come at... six past... No, half past six. Yeah, that."

Half past... Shit, that meant that Alexei was supposed to wait for a little more than one hour? An eleven-year-old alone in the dark and the cold by this windy evening? _That_ got Steve to turn off the ignition and his student glanced at him with curiosity.

"We will wait for your father together," Steve said firmly. "There's no way I'm leaving you here all by yourself for one hour. We can go back inside a classroom if you want, might be warmer than here..."

Alexei's wide eyes grew even larger at that suggestion and he shook his head.

"No, no, worry not about me!" he exclaimed. "I don't want to... hold you back."

"I insist." Steve added. "I won't feel comfortable knowing you're here waiting for your dad without anyone else."

The boy shyly agreed then, not that his teacher had left him much of a choice, and sheepishly stated that he'd like to remain outside better, describing the classrooms as too... The words failed him though, but through his clumsy explanation, Steve managed to get his point and suggested the term "suffocating", which Alexei immediately repeated.

A companionable silence settled between them afterwards and Steve debated with himself whether or not he was allowed to ask some questions about Mr. Barnes. Not for... personal reasons and interest, of course. But if Alexei kept coming for tutoring on Fridays and missed his bus every week, then had to wait one full hour to get back home with his dad, maybe Steve should end his sessions earlier or find another day, when Mr. Barnes didn't work as late as he did on Friday nights. Either way, he should discuss it with him.

"So, what does he do, your father?" Steve asked the child next to him.

Alexei's green eyes suddenly shone with so much excitement and pride that his next words tumbled out of his mouth before he could gather his thoughts properly:

"Он пианист!" he exclaimed with an enthusiasm that Steve could not share, unsure that he'd gotten the kid's words right. He'd thought he understood _pianist_ but the pronunciation wasn't quite the same, so he couldn't be certain.

"Uh... What?" he slowly said in confusion, an apologetic smile curling on his lips.

"Sorry!" Alexei exclaimed before he rambled on. "A pianist, dad pianist. Is. He's pianist. I didn't forget the verb, see? Dad plays for dancers, in a studio. They have show re... rehearsals on Fridays, so he works late. He plays very well, you know!"

"I'm sure he does." Steve answered, chuckling lightly as he noticed that Alexei suddenly didn't seem all that shy anymore once he started babbling about his father - his hero, it seemed.

"In Russia, he should have be a professional! Большой wanted him in Москва, Mister Rogers!"

 _Bolshoi_? As in, the Bolshoi Theatre? In Moscow? Well... Steve was by no means a specialist in piano, or music for that matter, but it sure sounded quite impressive. Alexei's father didn't seem to have gotten the job though.

"He didn't play for the Bolshoi?" he asked.

"He said no," Alexei replied softly. "Said he had a baby at home, couldn't travel with the troupe out of Russia for representations."

The young boy didn't say anything for a while after that, until he hesitantly added, almost to himself:

"Sometimes, I ask me if dad regrets. Not saying yes."

"Of course not!" Steve exclaimed, the words flying out of his mouth before he could think. "Your father loves you, I'm sure he chose the best option for you but that doesn't mean it's your fault that he didn't get to play the piano for the Bolshoi Theatre."

Maybe Steve was getting a bit ahead of himself there because hey, he didn't know Mr. Barnes at all, remember? But he was positive on one thing though: James Barnes loved his son. It had been obvious in the way he'd talked about him to Steve during the parent-teacher conference, how he'd been worried that maybe he wasn't helping Alexei as much as he should in English... Besides, no child should ever believe that they were responsible for the career of a parent that hadn't taken off.

"I know," Alexei said with a tiny smile. "Dad told me that. But I think he would be happy if he'd played there..."

"Does he seem unhappy to you?" Steve asked, raising a brow.

"No..." the child answered softly.

"Then I'm sure it's nothing to worry about, if he's happy playing the piano for the dance studio."

Alexei nodded, apparently satisfied with that reply and neither of them tried to break the silence that had fallen upon them once again. After a little while though, shortly after Alexei had started shivering in spite of his jacket, they both heard the sound of a car coming closer and soon enough, a vehicle pulled off next to them.

James Barnes got out of his car, looking a little dishevelled with those few strands of black hair that had slipped from his bun - not that Steve noticed nor cared, of course - and the young man hurried towards his son.

"Солнышко!" he exclaimed as he closed the distance between them, engulfing Alexei in a tight hug. "I'm so sorry, I only saw your text after the end of the rehearsal, I did as fast as I could... You're trembling, are you cold? Fu... -dge, you are ! Get in the car, солнышко."

Alexei did as he was told, picking up his backpack and waving at Steve, which only then led James to notice that he was there at all and his blue eyes grew a little wider as he put two and two together.

"You stayed with him?" he asked, heaving a deep sigh of relief when Steve nodded. "Thank you so much for that, you have no idea how worried I was when I got his message... I thought Alexei would stay alone and I... I think I ran a red light or two on my way."

"Sorry, I should have told him to send another text once I decided to wait with him," Steve said, mentally facepalming because he really should have thought about it, instead of taking the risk that Mr. Barnes might get into a car accident.

"Don't apologise!" James said with a sudden smile. "You didn't leave him alone, that's more than I could have asked for... How did the tutoring go, by the way?"

"It was fine. Alexei is a quick learner, I don't think he'll need tutoring for long," Steve explained, going a little weak in the knees upon seeing James' big grin. "I think we might try to reschedule the sessions though, since it doesn't seem to work too well with the bus and your job. But I can't do it earlier than four o'clock on Fridays, so maybe another day would work?"

"Sure," Mr. Barnes nodded, "I only work this late on Fridays, so whichever other day fits your schedule should be okay by me."

"Can I get back to you on that?" Steve asked with an apologetic smile. "I need to make sure I'm free before deciding the day. Maybe I could give you a call?"

Steve was almost sure he didn't blush when he suggested that. Almost. Before he could focus for too long on the totally-not-there-what-are-you-talking-about burning heat and redness spreading across his cheeks, the teacher quickly added:

"Alexei listed you as his emergency contact and I already have your number, so no problem."

"Great!" Bucky confirmed with a nod, before he fumbled in his pocket and took out his phone. "Do you mind giving me yours? That way I'll know who's calling because... Well, I tend to ignore calls from unknown numbers. It'd be too bad to miss yours."

Oh fuck. _Okay Stevie, calm down_ , the teacher heard a little voice, surprisingly sounding like Sam's, murmur in his head as he grabbed the phone. But how could he keep his cool when James was smiling? Asking for his number? Implying that he'd regret accidentally ignoring Steve's call? With those blue and expectant eyes? This... Did it qualify as flirting? Surely not. Right? Friendly behaviour or responsible behaviour for the wellbeing of a child at school did not fall into the flirting area. _Stop it, Steve_.

"Here," the teacher said, giving back James' phone and avoiding his eyes to make sure that he would control his blush.

"Thanks. Well, I guess I'll talk to you soon, then. I should be going, I wouldn't want Alexei to catch a cold... Have a nice evening, Mister Rogers."

"Y... yeah, y... you too, Mister Barnes." Steve stammered, feeling like an arrow had pierced right through his heart when the smile James flashed him lit up his whole face.

A man as handsome as him should come with a warning, especially for Steve, who felt like all the air had been knocked out of his lungs and feared for a second that he would have an asthma attack. Shit, Sam was right... Steve definitely _did_ have a crush.

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For your information, Steve rides a Harley-Davidson V Rod Muscle ;)
> 
> Russian words and translations:
> 
> Я Алексéй/Ya Aleksei - I am Alexei.
> 
> да/Da - Yes.
> 
> Он пианист/On pianist - He's a pianist.
> 
> Большой/Bol'shoy - The Bolshoi (Theatre).
> 
> Москва/Moskva - Moscow.
> 
> Солнышко/Solnyshko - Sun or sunshine, which is a Russian term of endearment frequently used and especially for kids. Coincidentally, it is also the name of a daycare center in Brooklyn.
> 
> Feel free to follow me on [tumblr](http://like-a-bucky.tumblr.com/) to get short spoilers in between chapters ! Warning: lots of Stucky and Sebastian Stan.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone ! Sorry I'm a little late, university exams took their toll on me... I'll be done with them next Thursday, I should be able to update sooner after that ! Thanks a lot for the feedback and kudos, I'm really glad to know you enjoy this story. I hope you will like this chapter as well !

  


  


In a lot of books and movies, once the main character finally got the number of their love interest, they tended to wait before calling. They did not want to come out as too eager or too desperate, after all, and Steve had always believed that it was stupid: if you liked someone, you'd better go for it. Why waste the time you could spend together?

Yet, as he stared at the form Alexei had filled at the beginning of the year, gaze set on Mr. Barnes' phone number, Steve felt exactly like that. Well, he personally thought that he had some damn good reasons to hesitate a little and ponder whether to call now or later, and those didn't involve being head over heels for the guy - not at all.

First of all, he didn't plan on intruding on the man's life too much, so he had decided to wait for decent hours to call. Unfortunately, the English teacher usually spent the decent hours of his weekend grading copies and once he focused on that, he didn't take kindly on being interrupted - not even by himself. Plus, his Saturday had been kind of busy: morning run with Sam, breakfast at _L'Elysée_ , the coffee shop that baked delicious croissants (Jacques Dernier owned it and Steve didn't know what he found the funniest: Jacques' English accent that he made a point to emphasise just to annoy everyone or Jacques getting all worked up and swearing in French. Steve had learned words that would make the tips of his ears turn pink in shame) and eventually, the blond had tagged along as Sam visited his grandmother.

Secondly, Steve hadn't checked his schedule yet, which made picking a day for the tutoring sessions somewhat complicated. Oh, it wouldn't take much time to do of course, but then Steve would actually run out of excuses not to call.

Which, okay, alright, so maybe it did have something to do with Steve being attracted to James. But he was a professional, he could make it work. Not actually facing the handsome young man would maybe help him not to trip over his words. Also, Steve probably should make it clear that if he hadn't called yet, that was definitely not because he didn't want to sound eager or desperate, oh no: this wasn't even about a date in the first place, so hush. He would call for professional reasons, would act and speak like the professional he was, and a good-looking dad would so not make him lose his cool.

Steve glanced at the mural clock hung above his desk. Half past three in the afternoon, on a Sunday. Did it qualify as a decent phone calling hour? Hopefully. With a resigned sigh, the blond opened the first drawer on his right, upsetting some stacks of paper (official teaching programs and other resources for his classes) as he searched for his agenda.

He knew that he worked the whole day on Mondays while he had a day off on Tuesdays, so Steve immediately crossed out those two options, as well as Friday. That only left the possibility of scheduling the tutoring on Wednesdays or Thursdays... Hopefully that would fit with James' and Alexei's own plans.

His fingers didn't shake - that would have been ridiculous otherwise - as he slowly typed Mr. Barnes' number on his phone and waited for the man to answer. Three rings later, Steve heard a soft click and then...

"Hello?" a voice spoke, sounding far too young to belong to Mr. Barnes.

"Alexei?" the teacher guessed. "Hi, this is Steve Rogers."

"Hello Mister Rogers!" the child exclaimed. "My father waited for your call, I'll get him! Wait a minute, please."

Steve chuckled as a distant shout reached the phone, something like _daaaaaad!_ , and he heard the muffled sound of quick footsteps before another voice echoed into his ear:

"Mister Rogers?"

"Hello, Mister Barnes." Steve greeted him, slowly sitting atop his desk and propping his agenda open on his left thigh, his free hand toying with a pencil. "I hope I'm not bothering you."

"No, no, don't worry!" James quickly reassured him. "I was helping Alexei with his homework but it was time for a break anyway. Speaking of which, I suppose you're calling to discuss the tutoring?"

"Yes," Steve replied, glancing down at his agenda and trying hard not to picture himself calling for asking the man out instead of scheduling tutoring sessions, "I'm free on Wednesdays and Thursdays, so it's up to you and Alexei. What would you prefer?"

The answer came as a thoughtful hum that made Steve imagine the young father going through his own planner with a focused little frown, until James added hesitantly:

"I know I said I'd be okay with whatever day you chose but actually, my Wednesdays will be kinda busy starting from next week, so..."

Steve was just about to say that he didn't see it as a problem since that left the Thursdays still, but Mr. Barnes took the floor again before he could voice his thoughts:

"Hey, actually, I heard from a friend that you did in-home tutoring too?" James asked. "I mean, it's okay if you don't do that anymore or if you don't want to but..."

"Would that be easier for you?" Steve asked back before he could even begin to examine the idea in depth, surprising himself in the process.

The blond male had indeed done some in-home tutoring before but most of the time, the sessions took place at school, since it was easier to schedule for most parents: the teens stayed with their teacher for one hour or two after school and then, a family member picked them up on their way back from work. Apparently, it didn't quite fit with James' work hours so maybe in-home tutoring would actually work out better for him.

"Well, yes," Mr. Barnes answered, "and I thought we could keep the Fridays for the sessions but if you can't, we'll schedule the tutoring for Thursdays and..."

"In-home tutoring on Fridays is fine," the teacher assured with a grin as he doodled in his agenda, embellishing the little drawing of a dictionary with the word Russian neatly written across the tiny pencilled cover.

"Really?" James wondered aloud, clear disbelief in his voice.

"Sure. I mean, it works for me and apparently you'd prefer it that way too, so I don't see why not... Uh, depending on the time it takes to get to your house, I guess the sessions might last up to half past five or maybe six o'clock in the evening, would that be okay?"

"I think so..." the other male replied. "Hey, by the way, take your time coming here: Alexei won't be there before half-past four anyway because he has to ride the bus back home."

"Or I could drive him?" Steve offered, before he sucked in a breath and face-palmed, his sudden move throwing the agenda to the floor. "Oh shit, forget I said that, I didn't mean to imply... Well, you don't know me so of course I'm not going to get your child in my car and..."

 _Stop, stop, stop!_ he thought, desperately trying to keep himself from saying more and passing as a creep and a pervert; why the hell had he even said that? Steve was about to bang his head against the nearest wall, an effective way to shut his babbling mouth, until James burst out laughing on the other end of the line.

"Uh... Mi... Mister Barnes?" he stammered, getting off his desk to bend down and pick up his agenda, frowning as he noticed that a few pages were now torn.

"S... Sorry..." the other panted between giggles that put a strange grin on Steve's face, embarrassment mixed up with amusement - and delight, he was forced to admit it: James' giddy sounds were lighting up a fire in the teacher's cheeks and stomach. "I didn't even think about that, don't worry. Were you actually serious?"

Steve kept quiet a few more seconds so that he could gather his thoughts, then he let out a calm, grounding breath.

"Well, yes," he replied as he tried to smooth the bent pages of his agenda with his free hand, "I've done that before so I thought... But as I said, you don't know me, so I totally understand if you don't feel comfortable with that idea. I apologise for being..."

Rude? Pushy? The teacher struggled for a short moment, until he heard James' silvery voice speak in such a way that he firmly believed that the other man was smiling.

"Relax," Mr. Barnes teased him, sudden and unexpected playfulness briefly slipping in his intonation, "the friend who told me about the in-home tutoring? Well, his son goes to your school too, and he said I could trust you, that you were a good man. So I'm fine with it. Plus, Alexei doesn't really like riding the bus so I'm sure he'd be thrilled if you could drive him home. Uh, you do drive a car, right? I mean, your bike is gorgeous, but..."

Steve, slightly baffled at the indirect compliment James had just paid him with this blind trust, needed a little time to fully grasp the question.

"Oh!" he finally exclaimed, feeling like an idiot. "Yeah, I got a car, I promise."

"Great!" Mr. Barnes laughed, before he turned serious again. "Thank you, Mister Rogers. I really appreciate what you're doing for us. Well, mostly for Alexei but... Uh, yeah. Thanks."

Steve should have said that it wasn't a big deal, that he was only doing his job or that since he had the possibility and the skills to help, he considered it the normal and right thing to do, teacher or not. Instead, he blurted out:

"It's my pleasure, James."

Oh shit. Did he just... call Alexei's father by his first name? Yes. Yes, he did. Shit. Mayday, mayday! Abort mission, Steve, now!

"Well," he added quickly, hoping that babbling would keep Mr. Barnes from reacting to his blunder at all, "I'm glad we came to an agreement. So, uh, I'll leave you to your homework, or Alexei's rather, uh... Have a nice afternoon, Mister Barnes!"

If the other man tried to answer, Steve wouldn't know: he quickly hung up, resisted the urge to throw his phone through the window and simply plopped down onto the floor, leaning his back against the desk. He regretted it almost immediately though, as the drawers knobs poked uncomfortably at his spine - not that he cared much.

No, he was far more focused on his most recent smoothest moment ever. Well done, Stevie, well done... So much for staying professional.

  


  


Alexei was waiting for him in the hallway outside his class when Steve finished his last lesson that Friday afternoon, and the child's face lit up as soon as he saw his teacher coming his way.

"Hi Mister Rogers!" he greeted the young man as per usual.

Steve replied in kind, glad to realise that his nervousness was slowly easing off: the prospect of going to the Barnes' house had haunted him all day, hanging over his head like a shadow, for no reason, really: James wouldn't be present so Steve didn't have to dread making a fool of himself all over again. All he had to do was focus and drive carefully - not that he usually didn't (although Sam would probably disagree and claim that Steve was stupidly reckless on his bike) but he would pay extra attention tonight, since he would be driving with a kid that was not his own.

"Ready?" he asked the young boy, who nodded and came by Steve's side to walk with him to the parking lot.

The young teacher might be totally in love with his Harley but even he had to admit that a car sometimes proved necessary or useful: it made grocery shopping way easier, not to mention driving passengers. So, a few years ago, he had bought his own car - still grumbling all the while that he preferred two-wheelers - and he didn't regret it.

They both got in the car and Alexei immediately fastened his seatbelt, making a smile grow on Steve's lips as the teacher imagined James Barnes fussing over his son and reminding him not to forget it, just in case Steve was a mad driver.

"You'll have to guide me," the oldest of the two stated as he turned his car key and turned the engine on, "I have now idea where you live."

Steve didn't mention that he had forgotten to ask the address in his haste to hang up last Sunday, nor that he had been too chicken to call back - those details didn't matter to anyone but him.

With Alexei's first instructions, Steve found himself driving down an avenue that the boy told him to follow for fifteen minutes or so, and the young man turned the radio on to fill the slightly embarrassed silence that had settled between them. The child seemed uncomfortable and at a loss for words, which was understandable since he didn't know his teacher enough to chit-chat with him, thus they both welcomed the music with open arms.

"Hey, my father likes that song!" Alexei suddenly perked up after a while, staring at the tiny speakers in the car as if he could actually see the music come out of them.

"Really?" Steve asked when he eventually recognised the first notes of Under pressure. "David Bowie? I thought your father would be more into... I don't know, Mozart, maybe?"

The kid chuckled to himself and bounced a little on his seat, happily mumbling messed up lyrics along to the song, before adding:

"Dad looooves Mozart. But he likes rock too. He plays rock songs with the piano sometimes. My favourite is the one... Uh, the title is... _Who wants to life forever_ ?"

Steve fought back a grin as Alexei started to sing and butchered some of the lyrics in the process, but he quickly recognised it as a Queen song anyway. He had to admit that he didn't listen much to rock bands but even he knew his classics, and he recalled having seen the movie that used that song as soundtrack a few years ago. He might never have heard a piano version of it (yet), but he could easily imagine that listening to James playing it would be a delight (not that he was biased or anything, of course.)

Soon, Alexei gestured him to take a lane on the left and pointed to another road a little farther away, which eventually led them to a cul-de-sac where stood a bunch of lovely houses on each side of the narrow street.

"Which one is yours?" Steve asked, adding once Alexei showed him the right one, "Will your father mind if I pull up in the driveway?"

"No, no, no problem. Go away."

A little puzzled, Steve needed a second to understand and slowly suggested:

"Did you mean _go ahead_ ? As in, I may do it?"

"Uh... Yeah? Sorry." Alexei mumbled, his cheeks turning crimson as he realised that he had - again - made a mistake.

"Hey, don't worry," Steve reassured him, flashing a kind smile his way while he killed the engine and pulled out his car key. "That's why I'm here, right?"

"Yes..." the child answered, unfastening his seatbelt. "But do you think there's a day I won't make mistakes anymore?"

"I'm sure of it, because I'm a super teacher," Steve affirmed, glad to see a glimmer of amusement in Alexei's green eyes. "Also, you're smart, and I _know_ it won't take long for you to catch up. And even if you keep making mistakes from time to time, it's okay: no one is perfect. Got it?"

"Got it!" the child beamed, bumping his fist into Steve's much bigger one that the teacher had held up for him. "Come on Mister Rogers, I'll get the key!"

They walked out of the car at that and Alexei hurried towards the front door, bending down to retrieve a key from under a flowerpot - unoriginal but probably effective for the days Alexei came home riding the bus when his father worked late. While the boy fumbled about and replaced the flowerpot in its initial spot, Steve grabbed his bag that contained the worksheets he'd made for Alexei earlier that week, when he had decided that they should focus on the prepositions during their next tutoring session.

"Come in, Mister Rogers!" he heard the boy's high-pitched voice calling from the now unlocked door. "Oh, hey! Наталия, привет!"

Steve looked at the kid in confusion when he heard what definitely sounded like Russian, until he realised that Alexei wasn't talking to him but to the neighbour, a redhead who had just passed her front door to pick up her mail, and she turned around to smile at the young boy.

"Hi, Alexei," she greeted him in English, although she had certainly understood the few words of Russian from before. "And hello, Mister Rogers."

Steve nearly asked if they knew each other, almost sure that he had never met her, until he remembered that she was the mother of a kid he'd had in one of his class two years prior: Nathaniel, who looked exactly like his father but had the same fiery and scary personality as his mother Natasha, which he had noticed during one of the parent-teacher meetings.

"Good afternoon, Mrs Barton," Steve politely returned her greetings with a smile, suddenly putting two and two together and realising that the Clint Barton listed as the second emergency contact on Alexei's form had to be her husband and probably the friend who had told James about the in-home tutoring as well. Maybe he should thank him. Maybe.

Natasha narrowed her eyes at him and Steve heard himself swallow a little too loudly in front of her piercing gaze, feeling like she was staring at his soul. She didn't make any comment though, only grabbed her mail and went back inside with a last small wave addressed to Alexei.

"I think she likes you," the boy piped up, green eyes sparkling. "Dad said she would."

Steve's head whipped around, amazement written all over his face as he blurted out:

"He talked about me?"

"I think so," Alexei replied with a shrug (and that answer shouldn't have made Steve as happy as it did), "I didn't hear a lot, I was busy. Doing stuff."

The teacher almost snorted at that but managed not to outright laugh at the child and the petulant way he'd quipped those words, as if that was some major _stuff_ that had made his father's conversation not worthy enough of eavesdropping on.

Steve had stepped on the threshold already and was about to enter the house when Alexei, a few steps ahead of him, turned around and asked all of a sudden:

"You're not afraid of dogs?"

"Uh, no?" Steve replied, a little taken aback. "Why, do you..."

He never got the chance to finish his sentence, as a fluffy mountain of white came barrelling from farther inside the house and jumped at him, all joyful barks and bounces, possibly trying to say hi in its own language.

"Зима, down!" Alexei soothed the dog, gently pulling on the red collar it bore around the neck, almost lost amidst the long hair.

The dog complied, panting a little and making its rosy tongue loll out comically.

"Sorry, he's always excited to meet someone new," Alexei apologised as he patted the dog's head, eliciting a content whine.

"It's okay. What's his name?" Steve asked, slowly bending down and reaching out to the dog, letting him sniff his hand.

" _Zima_ ," came the clear reply, along with a little jerk from the dog as he heard his name. "It Russian, it means..."

"Now, now, what did we say about the verb _to be_ ?" Steve interrupted the child before he could talk any further.

Alexei blinked, clearly not expecting the question, but he seemed to realise quickly enough what his teacher was implying.

"Not to forget it?" he hesitated, before taking the floor again on Steve's nod, "Зима's name _is_ Russian, it means _winter_. Dad got him for me before we left Russia, he said he would help if I was homesick in America."

Alexei didn't wait for him to say anything to that but he took off his shoes and headed for another room, telling the blond teacher to follow him and leading him to a small study that was provided with natural lightening by two windows on the opposite wall, of which the white paint job did wonders to make the room look bigger. A huge wooden bookshelf stood behind a desk, and Alexei made a quick job of gathering a chair and a stool, asking with uncertainty:

"Is it okay to work here?"

"Sure," Steve answered, setting his bag down. "Do you want to start now or... I don't know, maybe you usually grab a snack when you come back home?"

Although aware that he was most likely not bothering since James had been the one to suggest in-home tutoring, Steve didn't want to upset Alexei's routine either; however, the child shook his head, shooed Zima out of the office, and said:

"I'll just get some orange juice. Do you want a glass too, Mister Rogers?"

"That would be nice, thank you."

Alexei flashed him a shy smile and walked away, followed up by the overexcited dog. As he waited for his return, Steve sat down and grabbed the worksheets that he displayed on the desk, then allowed himself to take a closer look at the room he found himself in. He supposed it was James' office, as a few folders in the bookshelf read labels such as _bank_ , _insurances_ and so on (not that Steve was prying) and the room in itself screamed more of an adult occupant than a child.

The teacher decided that he liked the study and its light, the record player in a corner of the room, as well as the mess of music sheets that was spread literally _everywhere_ \- the desk, the floor, everywhere. What really got Steve's attention though, was the framed picture sitting right in front of him, on the desk. He easily recognised James on the photograph, even though he looked at least ten years younger and had shorter hair; in his arms, he was holding a baby, tiny and bundled up in a thick, white blanket. Steve identified the background as a hospital chamber, thanks to his own experience with healthcare facilities, and assumed that this picture had been taken the day Alexei was born. He felt his heart twitch as he contemplated the raw emotions on James' face, so young and already so full of pure love for the tiny being in the crook of his left arm, his other hand carefully supporting the baby's head in a position that didn't seem much comfortable, although James certainly looked too overwhelmed and awed to change a thing.

Most of all, he looked painfully happy and handsome, and Steve tried to calm his beating heart, to no avail.

  


  


"Correct," Steve nodded at Alexei's answer, "Last sentence?"

"I will meet you... _in_ the theatre? No, no, wait! _At_ ?"

"You tell me," his teacher answered, not too bothered by the mistake since the child had noticed it immediately.

Alexei looked conflicted for a second, throwing a quick glance to the tables of prepositions and their usage that laid on his right, then he turned back to Steve.

"At the theatre," he decided, voice firm.

"Right!" his teacher agreed, pleased with the kid's progress. "Now I think you should keep the tables and reread them from time to time, you'll quickly remember them that way. I'll also give you another worksheet and I'll check it out next week, alright?"

Alexei nodded in earnest but just as he opened his mouth to answer, they both heard a loud bark coming from the hall and the rattling of keys in the front door lock.

"Dad is back already?" the child wondered aloud, "He's supposed to work until six."

Steve glanced down at his watch, realising that it was half past five only. Suddenly worried that something bad had happened, he stood up and told the child:

"Go. I'll gather my papers and then I'll leave so you can have this evening with your father."

"Thank you Mister Rogers!" Alexei exclaimed before taking off.

Steve followed at a slower pace but he joined the little family quickly enough to witness James engulfing his son in a tight embrace. As soon as he noticed him though, Mister Barnes let go of his boy and asked him to go preheat the oven in the kitchen for their dinner, then he took a few steps towards the teacher and his radiant smile made its way into Steve's already enamoured heart.

"Good evening Mister Barnes," he uttered, successfully (for now) attempting not to choke on his own words.

"Oh?" the other raised a brow. "What happened to James ?"

Steve's whole face flushed and shame burned deep in his belly, his previous confidence slipping away and leaving behind nothing but a spluttering mess:

"I... I, uh, so sorry about that, I didn't... Not professional at all, I'm sorry Mister Barnes, I..."

"Whoa, calm down," the young man shushed him as concealed laughter made small crinkles appear around his eyes. "It's okay, don't worry: to be honest I'm not really into this Mister Barnes stuff. Nor James, actually. You can call me Bucky though, if you want."

"Bucky?" Steve repeated dumbly, still a little unsure that he was forgiven.

"Short for Buchanan, middle name. History nerds parents," he added with a dismissive wave of his hand as if that explained everything. "So, Bucky. Much better, don't you think?"

The blond man settled for a simple nod, not too eager to push his luck with a comment of the likes of _yeah, that's cute_ , and he asked:

"Is everything alright? Well, I mean, it's none of my business but Alexei said you were supposed to work up to six o'clock..."

"I left earlier," Jam... Bucky explained with a shrug. "I wanted to see you to know how it went today and to make sure you were fine with this sort of tutoring, the schedule and everything."

Steve, whose brain had nearly short-circuited as it stayed stuck on the I-wanted-to-see-you part, needed a few seconds to find his voice again.

"Y... Yes, it's perfectly okay. I believe being here will even make it easier for your son, since he's in a place he knows... It sounds less like school work like this, and children often learn better this way."

Bucky seemed pleased by that answer and his face softened a little more as he glanced at what Steve assumed was the kitchen general direction, making sure that Alexei wouldn't come back anytime soon, before he said in an undertone:

"Your help means a lot to me, really. I know the last few months have been hard on Alexei, more than either of us thought, so I'm... really grateful for everything you're doing. If there's any way I can ever repay you... Let me know."

Steve could have jumped on this sudden opening. How much guts did it take to ask a guy out for coffee anyway? Oh, and never mind the fact that the teacher had assured earlier in the week that he would definitely not date the parent of one of his students. Ah, who was he kidding? But Steve didn't ask, no matter how much he wanted to. It was too soon though, their relation - if you could call three short meetings and one phone call a relation - was too fresh to attempt anything. If Bucky knew what his intentions were and said no, awkwardness would ultimately develop and Alexei would be the one to suffer from that. And as Bucky explained, the kid needed his help; Steve would not privilege his own interests if they didn't benefit Alexei as well.

"You don't even need to repay me," he replied at last, "I'm glad to be of help, Bucky, really."

The spark that flashed across the blue eyes of the other man upon hearing his nickname, fleeting but so clearly content, nearly took Steve's breath away. Nearly. He wasn't _that_ gone on Bucky, damn it !

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The movie Steve mentions that uses the song _Who wants to live forever_ as soundtrack is _Highlander_ (1986).
> 
> Russian words and translations:
> 
> Наталия, привет/Natalia, privet - Natalia, hi ! (Natasha is mostly a nickname for Natalia.) Thanks to Garotte8Goodnight and Aprille for pointing out the right spelling of the name !
> 
> Зима/Zima - Winter. Zima is a Russian dog, a Samoyed (basically a huge ball of fluff.)
> 
> Feel free to ask if you have any question ! Thank you for reading, I'll see you soon ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone ! Here comes the fourth chapter, from Bucky's POV, dedicated to [belle-ep0que](http://belle-ep0que.tumblr.com/) who has waited for it for a while now... As usual, English mistakes in Alexei's speech are normal and Russian translations are in the end notes. Enjoy !

  


  


Only three things annoyed and infuriated Bucky Barnes as hell (while many others only mildly upset him): first, dog hair all over his place, a real pain in the ass seeing how Zima, their Samoyed dog, left fluffy white strands everywhere around. Second, old and grumpy people who tried to push their way through the queue to get to the cashier first ( _hey, asshole, you think you're being a good role model to the kids? Get back in line like everyone else!_ ) and third, attractive people.

Although they mainly annoyed him in the fuck-me-you're-pretty-what-do-I-do-? kind of way. Problem was, Steve Rogers was the most perfect person to ever walk the Earth since Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and also the living embodiment of handsomeness, so Bucky... Well, Bucky had eyes (and hormones, but that was a different story) and he wasn't immune to Steve's charm and easy smiles. Like, not at all.

Now, being physically attracted to a male didn't throw Bucky into a frenzied panic: he might have once believed that he was as straight as an arrow but those times were definitely over (ever since he had found out, at fifteen, that kissing Clint wasn't too bad, although Clint himself would complain that it had been sloppy as hell. Plus, they had just been _practicing_ together anyway.)

So, that wasn't a problem per se. What was far more annoying? The fact that he was not only drooling over the mere thought of the young teacher's abs, but also found him incredibly adorable on a personal level. Fighting a crush that only relied on physical attraction would never have bothered him; growing fond of someone for their personality, however, was a lot more difficult to deal with. Bucky hadn't dated much since Alexei's birth, although he'd had the occasional flirt or one-night stand, but he was... Well, wary and far more critical of who he chose to date, hence the rarity of it all.

Steve Rogers could qualify as the best man ever though, seeing how kind he was all the damn time, which didn't give Bucky any reason to eye him warily - quite the contrary, in fact. Be that as it may, the young father had not tried to ask the English teacher out just yet, even though Natasha and Clint had both insisted that Steve was a decent person - and that said a lot about the blond man if even Nat, the most circumspect woman ever, trusted him.

Bucky wanted to take things slow, though. He had to admit, his dating skills felt a little rusty, so if his relation with Steve could stay the same as it was at the moment, he would like that. He _did_ plan on doing something eventually, promise, but he would wait for the right time to do it, when his guts would tell him to go for it without fear. Bucky was confident that Steve wouldn't say no to a coffee some day, or maybe dinner, if he could arrange for Alexei to sleep over at Nat's and Clint's - not because he would need the house to himself with Steve, no, rather because he wouldn't leave his son all alone while he was, hopefully, having fun on a date.)

Bucky didn't feel presumptuous as he assumed that Steve would say yes: he had noticed the way the other man would flush and struggle with words around him... It was flattering to see that he could affect the teacher so much and he would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy it at least a little bit.

The day they'd met for the first time, Bucky had been running late for the parent-teacher conference and stressed as hell that maybe Alexei didn't behave at school, although it wouldn't be like him at all; what he'd found was reassurance and a gorgeous man. Good times. Then, there had been the evening that Steve spent waiting for him with Alexei and dear lord, wasn't he the sweetest? Bucky had also found out about the Harley and _that_... That could feed his imagination at night for _months_.

Should he even mention the phone call? Steve's endearing embarrassment as he realised that he'd called him James instead of the far too serious _Mr. Barnes_ ? Bucky had smiled the whole afternoon, awaking Alexei's suspicion. What could he say, he liked Steve's voice - among other things.

By now, the in-home tutoring had been going on for three weeks already, the fourth session happening that exact same evening, and as the dancers took their ten minutes break, so did he, by playing some non-classical music on the piano. He settled on some U2 and let his fingers wander on the piano keys at the same time as his thoughts wandered back to Steve, currently enlightening Alexei about the particularities of the English language. The prospect of going home after work filled him with excitement for two reasons, the main one being that he would get to spend the whole week-end with his son, save for the Saturday morning as he had to play the piano for the children dance classes (and if he had to play _Let it go_ one more time, he would break something.) The second reason that could explain his smiling face at the thought of finishing work tonight? Try to guess.

Yes, Steve, good job, how did you find out?

Because the young man was a serious and dedicated teacher - and also, as Bucky liked to think, because Steve felt a certain fondness for him - the blond male would actually leave post-it notes for Bucky to find in his office later, with a short summary of that day's session. Alexei's progress, sometimes a smiling face pencilled on the note, a word of encouragement, everything Steve wrote on those post-its made him smile like a fool. How lame was it, that even though they weren't even in an actual relationship, Bucky felt happier than ever? He had Alexei - his boy, his treasure - who kept working hard to study English and Steve, who stuck sometimes silly and dorky notes on his desk lamp or his pencils just to share the results of the tutoring with him. Thus his curiosity tonight: he couldn't wait to find a new note.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen, break's over!" Maria exclaimed, the sharp clapping of her hands bringing back all the dancers to their spots in the room as if under some spell. "Bucky? Are you ready?"

"Yep!" he shot back with a smile, regretfully ditching U2 to go back to Prokofiev and the sonata No. 7 - not that he disliked it, on the contrary, but finishing his song first would have pleased him just as much.

But Maria was the boss, so to the boss he listened, and Bucky started as soon as she gave him the signal to. He stayed focused for the entire performance, barely paying attention to the dancers at all, since his fingers had missed a key the first time he'd played the sonata that day, earlier in the evening. Which, dishonour! Dishonour on him, dishonour on his cow, dis... Yeah, you got the idea. Point was, _no one_ was allowed to butcher Prokofiev like he had, even though it had been unintentional. So, focus. Bucky only allowed himself to come out of his bubble a little after six o'clock, once the class was over and the dancers were chatting loudly, discipline and concentration slipping away as they joked together and thanked the pianist for his job that evening. The young man shoved his water bottle into his bag, stretching a little before he said his goodbyes to the dancers he came across as he walked to the door, just a little excited to go back home already.

"See you tomorrow, Maria!" he exclaimed with a wave from afar since his boss was talking to Kate; the young woman had slipped less than five minutes before the end of the choreography and although it didn't seem broken since she could put weight on her foot, Maria was probably telling her to go to the hospital to check on her ankle.

"I can drive you if you want and... Yeah, bye, Buck," she replied without even adverting her gaze from the dancer, "... hopefully it won't swell too much..."

Leaving his worried boss behind, Bucky walked back to his car and quickly started the engine, unwilling to waste much time before he could be home. The ride from the studio to his house usually took ten, maybe fifteen minutes, and in spite of his wish to hurry up already, the young man respected the speed limits and arrived, as always, a little before half past six.

A surprise awaited him home: as he pulled into the driveway, he noticed Steve's car, obviously still there even though it was well past the time he normally left. Unable to control his mouth, Bucky felt a smile spread across his lips and light up his face; he wasn't even ashamed to admit that he tripped on his own feet as he hurried up to the front door, and Zima welcomed him with a few merry barks as he stepped on the threshold.

"I'm home!" he shouted as he took off his shoes and got rid of his double-breasted coat, feeling a little too hot as the warmth of his house caressed his skin.

Minutes later, Alexei stormed in, Steve following suit, and the young boy was immediately pulled into a tight hug.

"Hi, dad," he uttered, voice muffled against his father's chest.

"Hi, yourself," Bucky replied as he let go of his son and ruffled his hair, eliciting a groan that could have rivalled Zima's, before he looked up to lock eyes with twin blue orbs. "Hello, Steve."

"Good evening, Bucky," the teacher greeted him, polite as always but also much more composed than during their previous encounters, when Steve had been a spluttering mess babbling apologies and whatnot.

"How comes you're still there?" Alexei's father asked, until he realised how poorly that choice of words sounded. "I mean, not that you are bothering me, no, just... I thought you'd be done earlier, as usual."

"There was an accident," Alexei interfered before Steve could do as much as open his mouth. "A car crash. We were stuck in traffic for... How long, Mister Rogers ?"

"Around forty minutes, I think," Steve answered the child and then paid attention to Bucky again, "We were almost done, I only have to check on the worksheets I gave to Alexei last week and then we're good."

"Take your time," Bucky nodded absentmindedly, and next thing he knew, he was blurting out, "Would you like to stay for dinner? I could get everything ready while you finish with Alexei?"

He nearly winced when he noticed how unsure of himself he sounded. Plus... He'd said he wanted to take it slow; inviting Steve over for dinner, in his house and with his son, didn't exactly match the slow pace he'd intended to follow - not that Bucky was known for his ability to stick to plans, but still. He usually had much more patience and control over himself than that.

"I would love to," Steve assured him with a shy but obviously delighted smile at the suggestion, although Bucky already knew that a _but_ would follow, "but are you sure that won't be a problem? I don't want you getting out of your way to cook enough for three."

Oh. So that was what Steve was worried about? Definitely not the kind of _but_ Bucky expected to hear: he thought the young man would maybe say that he had other plans for the evening, that he didn't feel comfortable enough to share dinner with the Barnes' small family... Although, knowing Steve a little, he would never have phrased it that way. But nothing like that: the blond male was worried about being an inconvenience. That was so Steve-like that Bucky couldn't help it: he laughed.

"Don't worry about that," he finally said. "I wouldn't have asked otherwise, you know?

"Thank you, then," Steve added, his face softening into a more relaxed expression as the concern eased away. "It will be my pleasure to stay."

Bucky definitively did _not_ squeal at that and remained dignified as he told Steve to go with Alexei while he got their dinner ready. However, once he was alone in the kitchen, he allowed himself to freak out (but just a little) over the fact that Steve was staying and _shit_ , he hadn't planned that out at all: Friday meant an almost empty fridge, since Bucky had his routine and went grocery shopping for the following week every Saturday morning after work. Usually, he would order take-out from the Italian restaurant a few blocs away or he would heat up the leftovers from the Thursday night but... He couldn't do that this evening, not if he wanted to somewhat impress Steve.

The next time, if there was one at all and if he didn't totally screw up this evening, Bucky would cook a proper dinner, a gourmet meal even, which he was actually capable of doing: he enjoyed cooking and he was quite good at it, no matter what Natasha would...

 _Natasha_. Of course!

Natasha, who kept criticising his cooking skills but never turned down his food, Natasha who excelled in the kitchen almost as much as he did himself and, most importantly, Natasha who had given him a huge dish of veal Orlov that morning, smirking at him while she explained that they _couldn't have your poor son forget about Mother Russia_.

Bucky nearly ripped the fridge door off its hinges as he yanked it open and sure enough, there it was, a glorious dish of meat that Bucky only had to put in the oven. Silently thanking Natasha for her troubles, the young man took the food out of the fridge, removed the aluminium foil, and carefully laid it on the countertop so that he could preheat the oven. He then grabbed the lone carrot that remained in the vegetable compartment of the fridge, intending to add it to the dish - not traditional at all, but still healthy. While Bucky had once not been particularly keen of green food, he had since long learned that children needed fruits and vegetables, hence the extra carrot.

"Can I do anything to help?" a voice startled him, even though the tone was gentle.

Bucky turned to Steve, knife and a half-peeled carrot in hand, and started with wide eyes as the teacher slowly took a step back, out of reach from the knife that the other man was holding like a weapon.

"Sorry," Steve apologised, raising his hands, "I didn't mean to scare you. Uh, Alexei and I are done and he went to his room to, uh... He said something about reading? So, here I am."

"You don't have to do anything, Steve, you're my guest," Bucky pointed out at the same time as he turned around to chop the carrot.

"Please," the teacher insisted, "don't let me feel useless like this, just watching you."

"I'm more than fine with you watching me," Bucky immediately shot back with a sly grin, wondering whether Steve would take that as flirting and choose to act on it. "You can set the table though, if you're that restless."

The blond teacher nodded and Bucky told him where to find the plates, forks and knifes as he eventually put Natasha's mouth-watering dish into the oven. He then placed three glasses on the table and asked the other man:

"What would you like to drink while it heats up? Sorry but I only have juices and water, I don't drink wine. Nor stronger alcohols, for that matter."

"Fine by me," Steve answered. "I'll take some water, thank you."

They both settled onto the couch in the living-room, where stood a beautiful, black piano that Steve had never noticed before since he only knew the office where he and Alexei worked every Friday evening. Bucky took a sip of apple juice before he spoke up:

"About Alexei's readings... I thought it would be a good idea to make him read more in English. So every night, before dinner, he goes upstairs to read a few pages."

"That's really good," Steve praised, actually impressed that the young father had thought about that. "Alexei has made a lot of progress over the past weeks, the flow of his sentences sounds like it usually would in English, more so than before... What kind of books does he read?"

"I bought him the whole series of Harry Potter books," Bucky admitted with an embarrassed laugh. "I know it doesn't qualify as the greatest literature ever but... He's already read them in Russian so I thought that maybe he could compare the sentences construction and see how it goes in one language, compared to the other. Plus, he loves the books, I figured it would be best to give him something that would keep him motivated."

Steve's eyes had widened like saucers, truly and positively impressed: that was thoughtful of Bucky, for sure. Alexei would remember new vocabulary better this way and more quickly than he would if he had to study whole lists of words.

The teacher was about to say so but the timer in the kitchen chose this exact moment to go off, so both males rose to their feet at the same time; Steve, with the clear intent to help however he could, followed Bucky as the young father went to the bottom of the stairs and shouted:

"Alexei, dinner's ready!"

"Coming!"

Satisfied, Bucky went back to the kitchen and opened the oven, breathing in the delicious smell of meat and mushrooms - bless you, Nat, really. From the corner of his eye, he saw Steve move and hand over something to him, which, as Bucky turned toward the other man, happened to be his oven mitts.

"Thank you," he said, "but now, humour me and take a seat, alright? My mother would be appalled if she knew I made my guest work."

"And mine would be ashamed to know I let myself be served like a prince," Steve retorted with a cheeky smile.

Bucky glared at him, eyes gleaming with playfulness, and he added on a firm tone and with a shooing motion:

"My house, my rules. Go away."

Steve laughed at that but surrendered all the same, unaware of the way waves of warmth filled Bucky's stomach as the sweet sound of his laughter carried on. Minutes later, the three of them were seated in front of their plates and Alexei took it upon himself to explain to his teacher what exactly was a телятина Орлов. Steve looked so focused, tiny creases of concentration on his forehead and everything, that Bucky's lips curled up in a soft smile. Cooking with the blond male, sharing their meal with him and witnessing Alexei talking to him freely, without stuttering like he did sometimes with strangers, felt so natural, almost domestic even, that Bucky feared for a second that emotions would overwhelm him. He had to talk to Steve, make sure that he was interested in him before Bucky allowed himself to fall for him harder than he already had: for the first time since... probably forever, but especially since Alexei's birth, he wanted something serious. Not a one-night stand like he'd had so many times before, not a friend with benefits, not someone who would run away when they realised Bucky had an eleven-year-old boy to raise.

"So, солнышко," he eventually uttered, his throat strangely dry and hoarse, "how was your day at school?"

"I hate mathematics," Alexei answered, deflating a little, before he perked up again and added, "but Mister Rogers made us working together today, I liked that !"

"Steve, please," the teacher butted in. "We're off school grounds and the tutoring is over for today. _Mister Rogers_ sounds too much like I'm still at work."

"O... okay," Alexei agreed, then he mumbled quietly to himself, as if trying out the name, "Steve... Uh, that's weird."

The blond man chuckled as the kid repeated his first name, trying to get used to it, and he explained to Bucky:

"I paired up the sixth grades to make them work on their argumentative speech and writing, they will have to defend their point during a debate on the topic of their choice. I think Matthew and him will get along."

"Matthew is nice," Alexei spoke up. "Dad, he told me he plays guitar!"

Steve fought back a smile as Bucky listened to his son gushing over his new friend, feeling like he should pat himself on the back for a job well done: a few weeks prior, the teacher had noticed how Alexei didn't dare open up and reach out to the other kids, so he had slightly increased the amount of team work in his class. He was well aware that in the end, Alexei should bond with his classmates by himself but in the meantime, that didn't mean Steve had to watch and do nothing.

Dinner went smoothly, between Steve complimenting Bucky on his cooking, the young father looking sheepish as he admitted that it was all Natasha's doing, and Alexei rushing to his dad's rescue as he praised his talents in the kitchen. Later, once they were done with their meal and that Steve had helped to clean the dishes, to Bucky's utter dismay, both men settled back on the couch for a moment while Alexei went out with Zima to play fetch in the small garden at the back of the house. The blond had watched with a fond smile Bucky wrapping his son in the thickest coat and scarf ever, apparently distrustful of November cold evenings.

Not that Steve blamed him: his asthma had always been worse during the winter and the few preceding months, not to mention the many times he'd caught a cold that had then evolved in something else, like pneumonia or the flu. To this day, woollen scarves, beanies, gloves and his warm duffel coat were still his best friends to fight the freezing winters, no matter how much he loved his jacket of brown leather.

So, since they were alone inside the house, Bucky thought now was as a good time as any to ask Steve a few questions and get to know him better, but the teacher beat him to it as his ocean-like gaze travelled to the piano in the living-room:

"Alexei told me you play the piano, professionally?"

"Yes, well..." Bucky chuckled, scratching his neck and looking down at his knees, "Saying _professionally_ would be pushing it a little. I mean, yeah, sure, I do it for a living, but I'm only playing at the dance studio. And during the shows too, not that I get much recognition from the audience since people are mainly there for the dancers themselves."

Bucky couldn't blame the parents for applauding their kids and not the piano player they barely knew, though. He knew from experience that your child came first in this kind of situation: back in Russia, Alexei had played tennis for a while and Bucky had been embarrassingly eager to let people know who exactly he was a supporter of, showing up with handmade banners in the bleachers.

"But you must be excellent," Steve keeps on, "since I heard you had the opportunity to play for the Bolshoi Theatre. That's... something."

"Oh, shit, did Alexei tell you that?" Bucky whined, hoping he wasn't blushing under Steve's intense and appreciative stare. "Then you probably also know that I didn't... seize that opportunity. I gave my ticket to the audition to a friend of mine: Alexei was something like eight or nine months old, I could never have left him alone to follow the troupe on tours outside of Russia."

Bucky paused for a second, expecting Steve to ask the obvious: what about Alexei's mother? Why had he mentioned that he couldn't leave his son alone and not under his mother's watch? Those were the kind of questions he had grown used to, what with being a single dad and all, but... Steve didn't ask. Either out of lack of curiosity or respect of his boundaries, Bucky couldn't tell, but he was relieved not to have to explain it all over again tonight: he had grown used to judgement as well and although he didn't think the teacher would get all disapproving on him, he didn't want to risk it, not tonight, not after this relaxed and peaceful evening spent with Steve.

However, when the teacher said nothing but simply kept staring at him with these soft blue eyes, Bucky added:

"I taught piano, back then, among other jobs. I don't know how you do it, Steve, teaching has to be the toughest job in the world."

"But also the best one," Steve pointed out quietly.

Bucky was about to argue, telling the teacher he should deem himself happy that he'd never had to sit through songs butchered by overexcited kids who confused playing piano with smashing keys, but he couldn't find his voice. Not when Steve was looking at him like that, eyes soft and tender, lips plump and slightly parted. Temptation was staring at him and Bucky wanted nothing more than give in, lean in and...

And he quickly backed away when Alexei barged into the house, yelling that Zima had found a frog in the garden and chased after it, dirtying its paws in the process. Bucky could have cried at the interruption, although the feeling quickly vanished when he realised that Zima would put mud everywhere in the house if he didn't clean his pads first, so he jumped on his feet to catch his dog before he could prance around.

Steve's silvery laughter followed him and Bucky couldn't even regret that they hadn't kissed: tonight had been perfect nonetheless.

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading ! I hope you still enjoy this story so far, let me know what you think about it :)
> 
> For your information, the "Dishonour on him, dishonour on his cow" part when Bucky gets Prokofiev's sonata wrong comes from _Mulan_. By the way, you can listen to said Sonata [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zptvLiMBn7E). And in case you're wondering, the U2 song that Bucky plays during the break is [Every breaking wave](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jpZgpeFsDmk).
> 
> Russian translations:
> 
> телятина Орлов/Telyatina Orlov - Veal Orlov. This is a Russian dish created by a French chef for the Russian prince Orlov. It is made of veal, mushrooms, and Mornay sauce... And it's delicious.
> 
> солнышко/Solnyshko - Sun or sunshine, which is a Russian term of endearment frequently used and especially for kids.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning/evening everyone ! As you see, I was able to update this very quickly but since my classes start back today, I might need a little more time for the next chapters.  
> Warnings for this chapter: description of homophobic behaviour and usage of homophobic slurs. Also, a brief mention of Steve Rogers/Brock Rumlow.  
> As usual, English mistakes in Alexei's speech are quite normal and you will find the Russian/English translations and more information in the end notes. Enjoy !

  


  


Steve loved quiet Saturday nights in. Back in college, he'd sure liked to go out from time to time and relieve some of the pressure weighing on him (classes could be stressful, not to mention the projects to turn in or, say, the exams) but he had always preferred relaxed evenings he spent with his friends, having dinner at one another's place or going out for a drink in a bar without a dance floor. To this day, Steve had always had two left feet and his dancing skills equalled an elephant's.

As Steve's best friend, Sam knew that and he made a point of not choosing any loud bar full of rowdies whenever the two of them went out, but most of the time they stayed inside, either at his or the blonde's place. Sam had invited his friend over tonight and since they were done with their dinner already, the both of them were cooking chocolate soufflés for dessert - or rather, they were trying, hard.

"I'm telling you, you poured too much milk in this!" Steve complained as he whisked the runny mixture of eggs, milk and chocolate.

"Maybe we should have stuck to the recipe and added the nuts?" Sam wondered aloud, holding the printed out copy of the soufflé recipe in front of his face.

"I'm allergic to nuts," Steve reminded him - uselessly, since his friend knew that perfectly well and that was why they had modified the recipe in the first place. "Besides, too much liquid has nothing to do with nuts."

"You never made nuts chocolate soufflés!" Sam exclaimed, "So you don't know that."

"But look at this!" Steve stressed as he all but shoved his large bowl into his friend's face, "It doesn't look like what we get on the pictures."

Sam rolled his eyes, not willing to have that discussion over again: Steve had convinced himself that Internet recipes were always right, so whatever didn't work when following them had to be the baker's fault and definitely _not_ the recipe's. He also believed in doing exactly what was written down and nothing else, so no improvisation here, but he had at least agreed to remove the nuts for the soufflés - not that he had any other choice, since they could literally be the death of him. _Here lies Steve Rogers, victim of mean nuts_. Not cool.

"I bet Bucky would know what to do," Sam heard Steve grumble to himself as he stirred the milk with a little more force but still carefully enough not to splash it everywhere.

"I thought he was a musician, not a chef," he pointed out while checking the oven temperature.

"Yeah, but he can cook, too. Alexei told me."

Sam waited for more but the blond man remained stubbornly silent, even though he was aware of his friend's curiosity.

"So, how is it going with Bucky?" he asked, tentative and acting almost disinterested, since not making a big deal out of it would be the best way to get Steve to spill the beans.

"Fine," the teacher mumbled, now pouring the melted chocolate into small soufflé dishes. "Actually, I don't know. I think he... he wanted to kiss me yesterday."

"Ah! I'd say it's going better than just fine!"

"I'm not sure," Steve whispered with a shrug, before he cleared his throat. "I wanted him to kiss me, I was... Yeah, I wanted it bad. But I'm also relieved he didn't?"

Sam only hummed, a silent encouragement for his friend to keep going and express his reasons for being so torn. As planned, Steve quickly explained:

"I like him, Sam, I... I really do. But I don't know for sure how he feels about me and I don't want... a fling."

"You never did," his friend reminded him softly, taking the soufflés from Steve's hands to put them in the oven. "Do what you usually do: talk about it. I'm sure if you find out what he wants, you'll be able to tell what _you_ want."

Steve nodded and turned around to wipe the kitchen counter where he'd accidentally shattered pieces of eggshell, thankful to find something to busy himself with so that he wouldn't have to say more about Bucky. He hadn't lied to Sam - he would never dare - but he hadn't told him everything either. Well, his friend knew some of it, namely, that at first the fact that Bucky might not have any interest in men could pose a problem. As an immediate consequence, he would have turned Steve down but the teacher had also feared it would bring the child's father to stop the tutoring sessions. Alexei wouldn't have benefited from that at all, which was one of the reasons why Steve had hesitated so much to say something.

Now however, since Bucky had made his interest crystal clear, it presented another problem: what if they didn't work out? What if they dated, broke up and made the situation awkward as hell for Alexei? What if Bucky did stop the tutoring anyway? Steve wasn't conceited to the point of thinking that he was the only teacher allowed or able to help the child around the convolutions of the English language but Bucky and he had talked about that before and he knew that Alexei wouldn't easily open up to another tutor. Thus, he couldn't help worrying, although he should probably not think about a potential break-up already... Or should he take it as the sign that it was a bad idea to date the young father?

Steve could feel a frown weigh down the corners of his mouth at the mere thought but thankfully, Sam's disbelieving voice pulled him out of this sad state of mind.

"Man, they're not rising..." he whined, contemplating the (failed) soufflés in the oven.

"Too much milk," the blond retorted on a mocking tone that clearly implied _I told you so_.

"Still edible, though," his friend remarked, wiggling his brows at the thought of a future degustation.

That was true: as the teacher grabbed Sam's customised oven mitts (the left one reading _I'm hot_ while the right one read _I'm on fire_ ) and took the small dishes out, the delicious scent of chocolate spread through the kitchen, tickling their nostrils, and Steve's stomach grumbled in enthusiasm.

"Hey, Steve..." Sam called him softly before the blond man could set the soufflés on the table for them to eat while they still kept some of their warmth, "About Bucky, I think you already know what you want, so go for it. Don't worry too much. He wants you and you want him, so at least give yourself a chance, alright?"

"Yes, I guess... Thank you, Sam," Steve replied while he took off the mitts, filled with sincere gratefulness for his friend.

"You're welcome. Now, let's eat those wonderful, delicious and very much failed soufflés!"

"Ah, I wonder _whose_ fault that is..."

The only answer Steve got was the oven mitts in the face.

  


  


Bucky was happily singing along to the Stray Cats as he drove, all smiles at the thought that Alexei wouldn't need to ride the bus back home this Wednesday: the young man's afternoon dance class had been cancelled, which gave him the too rare opportunity to pick up his son at school. Seeing that the next day would be Thanksgiving, Bucky considered it a great way to start the holiday: a tranquil afternoon spent with his son, no homework for the next day, then Thanksgiving with Clint and his little family, the perfect opportunity for Alexei to speak Russian again. The next day couldn't come any faster. Bucky felt euphoric already: the kids would play with Zima once their stomachs couldn't stand any more food, Natasha would bring the pumpkin pie since Bucky was in charge of the turkey and its stuffing and Clint would probably try and mess up the sauce, at least if his skills in the kitchen hadn't made any progress since the last Thanksgiving they had spent together, more than ten years ago.

Ten years. Fuck. So much had happened during these ten years... Nothing he regretted, although some people would surely not share his opinion, but Bucky refused to think about that. It would be his first Thanksgiving in America in a long, long time and he wouldn't let gossiping morons ruin that for him. Bucky had found his happiness and satisfaction in life and no one could ever take it away from him.

However, his good mood vanished and turned into immediate worry as he pulled over in front of the school and noticed Alexei by the gates, but not alone: Steve Rogers stood next to him, arms crossed against his muscular chest, and if his facial expression was anything to go by, he was pissed and tried hard not to show it (not that he did a good job at it, but still.)

Bucky got out of his car with his stomach in knots, not sure what to expect, and lumbered his way to his son and his teacher, until he was close enough to spot a big and nasty shiner on Alexei's face. He ran the last few feet that separated him from his boy.

"What the hell happened to you?!" he exclaimed, kneeling in the gravel and placing both of his hands on his son's shoulders, gentle in spite of his alarm.

"I'm fine, dad..." the young boy mumbled, avoiding his father's worried gaze.

"Fine?" Bucky repeated, almost shrieking. "Fine?! You've got a black eye and you say you're fine? You're far from fine, you're... Who did this?"

"Dad..."

Aware that Alexei would try to reassure him but wouldn't actually explain anything right now, Bucky rose to his feet and turned to the teacher, taking in his frown and the crease between his brows.

"What happened?" he asked again.

"He got in a fight," Steve answered, "with seniors."

Bucky gaped at him for a second. A fight? Alexei? He'd expected to hear about bullies or maybe a stray ball in sports but... Not that.

"He won't tell me how it started," the teacher added before the other man could find his voice again, "and the seniors won't either. This is the first discipline problem we encounter with Alexei, so he gets away with a mere warning this time. If it happens again, we'll have to apply more severe disciplinary measures such as detention."

"It won't happen again," Bucky assured him, before turning to his son, "Right, Alexei?"

The child nodded, looking miserable and not only due to his black eye. God. It must be painful.

"Get in the car, солнышко," he enjoined the boy with much more softness than intended as worry crept in his tone. "I'll be there in a minute."

Alexei nodded again, eyes cast down, and whispered a shy _Goodbye Mister Rogers_ as he walked away. Bucky waited until he was out of earshot to sigh and tell Steve:

"I'm so sorry about that. He never... He never fought in school back in Russia, I don't know what happened..."

"Neither do I," Steve replied. "These seniors are known for getting in fights on school grounds but... I don't think Alexei knew them before, maybe he was... at the wrong place at the wrong time?"

"And you're sure they weren't bullying him?"

"Yes. I pulled them apart myself, with one of my colleagues, and I assure you that Alexei got in a few good punches too. Also, I believe he was screaming bloody murder in Russian."

Bucky ran a tired hand in his hair, at a loss for words. His son, fighting. Oh God.

"I'll talk to him," he promised, "and it won't happen again."

"I sure hope not... It would be best for him," Steve replied.

"Yes. Well... Good evening, I guess?"

Steve nodded and waved a little, so Bucky turned around and headed for his car and the most likely unpleasant conversation yet to come with Alexei, but the teacher's voice suddenly echoed behind him, holding him back.

"Bucky, wait!"

The father turned his head, smiling at the sight of Steve hurrying to catch up with him, and he raised an expectant brow.

"It's Thanksgiving tomorrow," Steve blurted out, "and Friday is a day off and the other teachers and I like to celebrate together as well on that day. So, I won't be able to come for the tutoring..."

The blond man trailed off but it didn't look as though he was actually done talking, so Bucky only nodded and added a small _okay ?_ for good measure, but he waited for more.

"So..." Steve drawled hesitantly, "I was wondering if maybe... You'd like to have dinner on Saturday night. Just... you and I? I mean..."

Blue eyes flickered to the direction of the car where Alexei was waiting for his father, and Bucky smiled.

"Alexei is sleeping over at Nat's and Clint's on Saturday," he answered with confidence at the same time as he made a mental note to ask his friends if that was okay. "So I'm free. And I'd love to have dinner with you, Steve."

The teacher obviously had to battle with himself to fight the grin that threatened to bloom on his face, not that Bucky was faring much better himself, but the blond male ended up smiling like a fool anyway.

"Great!" he exclaimed. "Then I'll text you the time and place, alright?"

"Sure. I'm looking forward to it."

"Great," Steve repeated, all eloquence lost. "It's... cool, really. Well, then I'll see you on Saturday. Uh, good evening, Buck. And happy Thanksgiving."

"Happy Thanksgiving, Steve."

The teacher nodded and flashed him a last tiny smile before scurrying away and if Bucky stared a bit too long at the sway of his hips and the beautiful form of his ass, that was his business and nobody else's.

Bucky quickly willed his expression into a more severe one as he went back to his car, doing his best to ignore the jab of pain between his ribs when Alexei looked at him from under his lashes, one of his green eyes surrounded by a dark shade of bluish black. He was torn between the urge to ask for explanations, the reasons for this surprising behaviour, and the need to wrap his son in a blanket and cuddle him until the pain eased away. Fuck, he hoped they still had a bag of frozen vegetables in the freezer.

The drive back home happened in a heavy and tense silence, between Bucky throwing furtive glances to his son and Alexei frowning or touching his cheek with careful and gentle fingers. When the young man finally pulled into their driveway, he switched off the ignition but didn't get out and turned to his son.

"You do know you will have to explain what happened, right?" he enquired.

A nod answered him and then, Alexei asked on a sad and shy tone:

"Do you think Steve is disappointed in me?"

"I don't know if he is, I guess this is something you'll have to ask him yourself."

Alexei's shoulders sagged in defeat before the child looked up and locked eyes with his father's.

"I'm sorry," he apologised with sincerity, "I'm really sorry, dad, I didn't want that but..."

He went quiet but Bucky wasn't about to let it go.

"But what, Alexei?"

"The seniors," the boy started, "they said bad things about Steve..."

His father stared at him for a few seconds without saying anything - unable to find the words. Did it mean that Alexei had defended his teacher? Stood up for him? Although it was... Well, let's say considerate, Steve was a fucking adult, he could fight his own battles and his son shouldn't do it for him.

"What sort of things?" he asked in disbelief, not fully able to grasp how someone would even find shit to say about the teacher. "That he didn't give them good grades? Did they complain that, I don't know, he didn't teach well and they didn't like him? You don't go throwing punches around for that, Alexei!"

"It's not like that!" the boy cried out in anger. "They said he was a fucking faggot!"

Silence followed the child's outburst as he heaved a little, trying to calm down and uncurl his fists while Bucky processed his son's words.

"I told to them to shut up because that wasn't a good word, that there are proper words to say it and even I knew it. They laughed and called him a fag again, so I punched one of them."

Oh. Okay. Well, that certainly explained Alexei's reaction, Bucky even felt kind of proud of his son for that, although he couldn't say as much.

"Violence is not a solution, Alexei," he scolded him instead.

His son nodded his agreement but he couldn't help adding:

"You know I couldn't let them saying that. _You know_."

Yes, he knew. When Alexei was eight years old, Bucky sat him down and explained to his son, in words as simple as he possibly could, that he liked both men and women, that it was called being bisexual. He told Alexei how Russia didn't accept that very much, how he had to be careful sometimes because people could look down upon him or even get violent. Bucky remembered his nervousness as he explained his sexuality to his little boy, afraid that maybe he wouldn't understand or worse, wouldn't take kindly to the news. But he would also forever remember the seriousness of his son as he listened to him, the way his little arms had found their way around his neck to squeeze him into a tight hug, how he had promised he would always love his папа. Alexei was young and he probably didn't know it but those were the exact words Bucky needed to hear. He wasn't even ashamed to admit that he had cried a little in his son's arms.

"I understand why you did it, Alexei," he said at last. "You were right to tell them to be respectful but not to hit them. It can't happen again, do you understand? The next time someone says something like that, you tell a teacher but you don't try to settle things by yourself. Understood?"

"Understood. I'm sorry, dad."

"I know. Come on, we'll get you something cold for that shiner."

And just like that, it was over. When he had to scold his son, Bucky made a point of not creating a situation where either of them might hold a grudge against the other; sometimes it didn't turn out as Bucky would like and the first months Alexei had spent in America had been hard on the both of them, but he did his best to communicate with his son calmly instead of yelling. That didn't mean that Bucky was less severe, no, and the boy knew when to stop pushing his luck.

Once inside, Alexei (followed by a concerned-looking Zima) took a seat by the table in the kitchen while his father rummaged through the freezer contents, until he found a bag of frozen raspberries, or what was left of it - his raspberry cheesecake had rendered even Natasha speechless, he had been so proud - and he wrapped it into a clean dish towel before gently pressing it over Alexei's black eye.

"Better?" he asked.

"Yeah..."

After a while, Bucky told his son to keep the cold bag against his eye while he looked for a decongestant cream in the bathroom; he was almost sure they still had some arnica cream somewhere... He suddenly felt grateful that Steve hadn't given him the names of the boys who had done this to his son, or he'd probably turn against them in his fury. They had hurt his baby, his little boy who'd only tried to defend his teacher... Speaking of which, Steve had made it clear today that his interests laid in men, at least partially: after all, he'd just asked Bucky out on a date (the teacher might not have said the word but he was almost a hundred percent positive they were going on an actual date on Saturday.) So, it raised this question: those seniors who talked shit about Steve... Did they know he was gay or had they just used the slurs to insult him out of spite?

When he asked this exact same question to his son, deliberately omitting the part where Steve had asked him out, Alexei shrugged but froze midway so that Bucky wouldn't poke him in the eye with his finger covered with cream.

"Almost the whole school knows he's gay," he answered, going a bit cross-eyed as he focused on his father's hand. "He was catched kissing another teacher. Another man."

"Caught," Bucky corrected absentmindedly, trying to apply the arnica cream as gently as possible over the swollen eyelid.

" _Caught_ kissing," Alexei repeated, "with Mister Rumlow, the science teacher. It happened last year, so I didn't know but Matthew told me. He also said some didn't like it but they didn't dare say anything because there are lots of other people who like Steve."

That Bucky could easily believe: from what he'd heard before, mainly from Natasha and Clint who were his eyes and ears regarding school matters, most of the school community loved Steve for his dedication to his job and his good influence on the kids, among other things. If the news of his homosexuality had spread like fire, at least it didn't seem to have had any bad effect on the young teacher's career. Bucky didn't want to imagine what would have happened to him if his own bisexuality had been made public back in Russia, where no law prohibited discrimination based on one's sexuality. His friends mostly came of the artistic field though, which made them somewhat more open-minded and thankfully, he'd had the possibility to be out to some of them. However, it hadn't erased the fear that if the word came to ill-disposed people's knowledge, he would not be safe - or worse, Alexei wouldn't either.

In this regard, moving in America had made it much easier for him. While he didn't go around yelling that he was bi, most people in his entourage knew and accepted it perfectly well. Clint had been in the confidence since forever, obviously, and when Bucky had come back to New York, his best friend had threatened to throw some punches if anyone started talking shit about him. To this day, he hadn't needed to let out all his righteous anger, which pleased Bucky very much, thank you.

"Alright, done," he said once Alexei's eye was smeared with cream, "No, wait, I got some in your eyebrow..."

Chuckling at his father's dismayed face, the young boy wiped his brow himself then gently hugged his dad.

"Sorry," he repeated once again before kissing his father's cheek and leaving the kitchen.

Bucky stood there for a while, staring at the bag of raspberries, and after a few moments of reflection, he decided to put it back in the freezer: you could never know what would happen with an eleven-year-old boy.

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In his car, Bucky is listening and singing along to [Stray Cats - Rock this town](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9a8Pkw9VBR8).
> 
> Russian translations:
> 
> Солнышко/Solnyshko - Sun or sunshine, which is a Russian term of endearment frequently used and especially for kids.
> 
> Папа/Papa - Dad, daddy.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, feel free to give me some feedback and to follow me on [tumblr](http://like-a-bucky.tumblr.com/) for more Stucky ! See you soon ;)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone ! It took me longer than I thought to write this chapter, hopefully you will like it ! Many thanks to all of you for the subscriptions, kudos and bookmarks, and special thanks to those of you who leave comments: they mean the world to me. Enjoy this chapter ! ;)  
> (As usual, check the end notes for more information on the music and dishes mentionned in this chapter.)

  


  


"Whoa," was the first word to escape Bucky's mouth when he gently (read: with much more excitation than he was aiming to show) opened his front door that Saturday evening, at seven o'clock on the dot.

Now, Bucky didn't consider _whoa_ the right way to welcome his hot date but damn, Steve didn't make it easy for him. As if the teacher didn't look good enough already, he'd had to put on a nice pair of jeans that hugged his legs and the beautiful silhouette of his thighs, and a leather jacket (and uuuugh, _leather_ ); a dark blue scarf, tightly wrapped around his neck, was hiding his Adam apple. Add to it the slightly mussed up hair and you obtained a perfectly handsome man, smiling at him as if Bucky were an early Christmas gift. Hence the eloquent and totally not embarrassing _whoa_.

"Uh, thanks?" Steve replied, a little unsure and suddenly a little red in the face.

"I meant hi," Bucky assured him, trying to look and sound dead serious, not that it was of much use. "Do you want to come in for a minute? I'll just grab my coat and then we can go."

"Sure," Steve nodded before he passed the threshold, enabling Bucky to close the door and keep the cold of November outside the warm house.

When Zima bounced in Steve's direction, now used to him and eager to be petted, the teacher bent down to scratch the spot behind one of his triangular shaped ears and watched Bucky retrieve his coat from the closet.

"By the way," the blond man started, straightening up, "I rode my bike to come here, so I was wondering... Would you like to ride with me to the restaurant? Or we can take your car if you're not comfortable with motorcycles, it's fine."

"Are you serious?" the other blurted out, coat in hand and mouth gaping. "Oh shit, I'd love to but... I think if I even try to ride that beast of yours, I'm going to rip my pants."

At that, of course, Steve's eyes travelled down to Bucky's ass and his shapely thighs, clad in dark skinny jeans that had to be illegal in half the States. Maybe even in Russia. Steve tried to imagine everything but Bucky squirming to fit into these tight, tight trousers, which was hard to do when he had the real thing right under his eyes. Sweet temptation...

"Alright," he agreed, voice thick and hoarse as he forced himself to stare at Bucky in the eyes, "So... Your car?"

"Yes," the other confirmed with a firm nod, in spite of the obvious regret in his dark pupils. "Let's go then."

Steve walked out first so that Bucky could close and lock the front door behind him, and he waited for the young man next to the car. He had texted the address of the restaurant to Bucky a few days prior but they had agreed to meet at his house and go together, since it was always easier to park one car than two, or even one plus a bike.

The teacher would never admit this to anyone but the reservation at the restaurant tonight resulted from a slow and excruciating process: first, Steve had needed a moment to realise what exactly he had suggested to Bucky. A date, just the two of them, even though he still didn't know for sure if that wouldn't complicate their situation. Second, the restaurant itself. For a first date, Steve didn't want to choose anything too fancy, almost a hundred percent positive that Bucky would feel uncomfortable, but he couldn't opt for something too casual either: he needed to show that he wanted something serious out of this and, let's be honest here, he was kind of trying to impress the other man as well.

Eventually, he had settled on the Greek place he knew, the one standing a few blocks away from his house, a pure coincidence since he did not plan on taking Bucky home with him that night - too soon for that. Not to mention his nervousness, subdued but still present, that tended to destroy the rare traces of smoothness he owned. In other words, he couldn't flirt to save his life.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when Bucky turned the ignition key and he jerked in surprise as the car radio immediately came to life, blaring cheesy lyrics through the speakers. Steve didn't recognise the song - he didn't have the time to, since Bucky all but jumped on the radio to turn down the volume - but he did catch a part of the lyrics before the sound died down: _is this love that I'm feeling, is this the love that I've been searching_...

"Uh, haha," Bucky let out a laugh, a little too shrill to be natural, "this radio station really sucks, right?"

Steve, amused but still trying to resist the huge grin slowly spreading on his lips, tapped the radio with his forefinger.

"I can see that it's a CD, Bucky," he pointed out with a smile, which got the other male to whine and bang his head against the steering wheel, accidentally honking in the process.

The blond teacher couldn't help but laugh at that and he added, just because he could (and also because Bucky was blushing a little under the dark curtain of his hair and that was way too endearing):

"I thought you were a rock bands fan?"

"It _is_ a rock band," Bucky replied even as he fiddled with the radio to turn it off, not daring to meet Steve's eyes, "with the long hair and everything. Rock bands also wrote beautiful ballads, you know that?"

"Now I do, Mister Sentimentalist."

"Shut up," Bucky groaned as he, finally, pulled out of the driveway, "or I'm ditching you here and I'm going to eat on my own."

Steve pouted a little but he stopped teasing the other man anyway, even though he knew (or at least he hoped) that it was but an empty threat: Bucky had looked so excited when he'd opened the door earlier that evening that Steve couldn't even fathom the ridiculous thought of Bucky bailing on him or going all alone on their date. He would never dare.

"Why the dopey grin, Stevie?" Bucky asked all of a sudden, glancing between the road and the blond male's face.

"Nothing," the teacher replied in a hurry, realising that he'd been staring in silence at the other man. "I was... thinking."

"Be careful, you might hurt yourself."

"I probably did," Steve shot back in a heartbeat, "because I just thought for a moment that you were gorgeous."

At that, Steve had the immense pleasure of witnessing Bucky's face turn a deep red and the young man sputtered a few words (inaudible sounds, really) that the teacher couldn't make out. Turned out that maybe Steve had lied, without meaning to: maybe he _could_ flirt, after all.

(Steve: 1 - Bucky: 0.)

  


  


"I'm thinking meze and then, the yous... youvesti?" Bucky frowned down at the menu in his hands, frustrated as he tried (and failed) to pronounce the foreign dish name. "Uh. Youvetsi."

"Are you sure?" Steve asked, a little worried for the future state of Bucky's stomach, "I mean, I know the chef and believe me, he doesn't joke around. The meze, even as a hors d'oeuvre, is huge."

"Does that mean you don't think I can eat all that?" Bucky replied, narrowing his eyes when Steve shrugged with a challenging smile. "Oooh, it's so on, Rogers ! Just watch me."

  


  


"I'm dying," Bucky moaned as he slowly walked out of his car, fumbling around his pocket to find his house key. "I'm full. My stomach is going to explode."

Steve, with hints of laughter around the corners of his eyes, opened his mouth to answer but Bucky quickly added:

"If you dare say _I told you so_ , I will fucking puke on your shoes, Steve."

The blond man wisely chose to remain quiet and he followed Bucky inside, smiling to himself while the other couldn't see him. Steve watched with fondness in his eyes as the dark-haired male took off his shoes and his coat with clumsiness and annoyed groans, as if moving the slightest muscle was too much effort, then Bucky all but collapsed on his couch face first and heaved a deep sigh of contentment as he snuggled into the cushions - he looked half-asleep already.

"I ate too much. 'm never going to stand up anymore," he mumbled all of a sudden, slowly rolling over to speak without having the pillows in his face and gingerly patting his stomach with one of his hands. "I'll stay right here until I finally explode."

"And here I thought you would play something for me," Steve joked, waving at the piano even as he came around the couch to sit on what little room Bucky had left for him. "Alexei keeps telling me how great you are but I never actually heard you."

Bucky's head whipped around at that and he stared at him with such intensity in his eyes that Steve wondered for a moment if he had said something he wasn't supposed to, something that had upset his friend, but then he saw the barely concealed hope that shone in those clear blue irises.

"Would you like to? Listen to me as I play?" Bucky asked while he sat up, his tiredness (or stomach ache?) suddenly forgotten.

"I would love to," Steve answered, eyes widening a little at the other's unexpected enthusiasm, "If I had known you would be so ecstatic, I would have asked a long time ago."

Bucky stood up and didn't reply right away, taking his time to fluff up the cushions he had crushed under his body, but then he turned around and flashed Steve a radiant smile.

"Sorry if I... seem a little overexcited," he apologised, although the grin he was sporting didn't really help Steve to believe that he was even the tiniest bit sorry. "Most of the time I play because it's my job to do so and I don't get to play a lot for the people I like. So yeah, I'm happy. Come on!"

It came as a surprise to the teacher when Bucky reached out to grab his right hand and tugged, forcing him to haul himself to his feet, and the young father dragged him along toward the piano bench. Steve stood there, a little confused, while Bucky took a seat in the middle then slid to the side, looking up at him with wide, expectant eyes.

"Well?" Bucky asked, raising a brow. "Sit down!"

"Oh, uh, yeah sure," Steve uttered, suddenly growing shy at their proximity once he sat next to the other man.

Which was totally ridiculous, by the way, seeing that they had spent almost the whole evening flirting with each other. But the joking, teasing and flirting had taken place in public and had been light enough that one could have thought their relationship didn't go any farther than close friendship while right now, in Bucky's house, gathered nearby the piano and thighs pressed together due to the narrowness of the bench... Steve was overwhelmed by the implications. Bucky was offering him a gift, a moment of intimacy, and the blond suddenly feared he would somehow ruin this.

It was a strange feeling, to know that anything - literally everything or even, nothing at all - could happen tonight: they had toed around each other long enough to understand that the attraction was mutual, that they both wanted something more than easy camaraderie out of this relation, but in spite of all that, none of them had dared cross the line yet.

"Do you want me to play something specific?" Bucky asked him, his fingers already caressing the black and white keys like he would a lover, with such care and tenderness that Steve couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the sight.

"Anything you like," he eventually answered. "I don't know much about piano and what you can or can't play on it..."

"Oh, pretty much everything," Bucky explained with a smile blooming on his plump lips. "Sometimes you have to rearrange the song a little to make it work, that's all. So shoot, tell me what you want."

"I really don't know, Buck. Play something you like?" he suggested.

"Well..." Bucky seemed to deflate and blush at that, but then he rested his fingers lightly atop the keys - Steve had no idea which ones. "Okay. I hope you'll like this, then."

When Bucky started to move his fingers, soft notes first rose from the piano. Steve didn't think he knew the song, but he didn't need to in order to appreciate Bucky's version: slowly, from subdued, the intensity of the music the pianist was playing turned to heavy with emotions that the blond could grasp even without lyrics, just by watching the gorgeous man lose himself into the keys of his piano, his hands moving with little effort to bring out beautiful sounds with a light touch of his fingers.

Steve didn't know much about music and how to describe a song with words, but he could sure find those that would tell how exactly it made him feel; the music was filled with a sorrowful melancholy that a strong surge of hope suddenly shattered, leaving behind only dreams to achieve. And Bucky looked... Bucky looked...

The music died down on the same softer notes from the beginning and the pianist slowly turned his head to glance at Steve, who noticed the tenseness in the line of his shoulders, as if Bucky was waiting for his judgment.

"What... What did you think about it?" he asked with hesitation, biting his lower lip while he waited for Steve's answer.

"I didn't know the song," the latter blurted out, even though it was far from what he had planned on saying at first. "I mean, I..."

"Oh," Bucky whispered softly, looking down at his knees to avoid Steve's gaze. "It's, uh, Bon Jovi. The song is called Bed of roses. Even if you didn't know it, was it... good?"

"Good?" Steve repeated as if scandalised, which got Bucky to lift his head to stare at him in surprised shock, "Good? Bucky, it was... You were amazing. I can't tell you how much but I... I think you were mesmerising."

Bucky squirmed on the bench and chuckled to himself, looking down again before he whispered:

"Don't overdo it. It was just a..."

"No, Buck," the blond man cut him off, suddenly reaching out to place a gentle hand against Bucky's cheek to coax him into looking at him again, "I'm being honest, here. You were breathtaking."

Bucky's whole face flushed but he found the strength in himself to stay this way, to keep his eyes locked with Steve's, which widened slightly when the blond male realised how close they were, with his hand still right against the other's warm skin. For a second, Bucky thought that Steve would back away and... It couldn't happen. Thus, the young man slowly raised his right hand, the one closer to the blond man, and when Steve didn't step back, Bucky gently caressed his neck, watching with a gentle smile on his lips as Steve swallowed and leaned in, almost imperceptibly.

"B... Bucky..." he stuttered, a silent question on the tip of his tongue, dancing in his eyes.

The pianist answered it as quietly: his hand on Steve's neck pushed gingerly and the blond male went with it, his body pliant and eager as he came closer to Bucky until suddenly, they had closed all distance between them. Steve's lips found Bucky's mouth first, hesitant and soft, but Bucky was the first one to move, wrapping his free arm around the teacher's waist to press him even closer to his own body, and then he deepened the kiss.

Steve let out a soft noise when their tongues met and his hand suddenly slipped from Bucky's cheek to tangle in his half-long hair; their kiss was slow, unrushed and nothing like the kisses Bucky had experienced before. For the first time in a long time, maybe even since forever, it felt natural to kiss someone else, like it was meant to be, even though they were both clumsy in a way as they weren't used to each other like this. They bumped nose once or twice and smiled against the other's mouth when a long strand of Bucky's hair fell between them, tickling their lips and forcing them apart.

A short gulp of oxygen was all they needed before they found each other again, this time for an intense kiss, and when they parted again, it left their chest rising and falling unevenly, their eyes hooded. Steve, especially, dreaded for a minute that his heavy breathing would trigger his asthma but after a little while, he calmed down.

"Are you okay?" Bucky asked, worry creeping in his tone, and only then did Steve realise that the other had been staring at him the whole time.

"Yes," he promised with a gentle squeeze of Bucky's neck, "Sometimes I have asthma attacks, they come from my childhood. They rarely happen these days but... Sometimes they do anyway."

"Oh," Bucky mumbled, "well, tell me if it ends up being... too much, I guess? I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," Steve assured him, "but thank you. Uh, could you maybe... kiss me again?"

The radiant smile that appeared on Bucky's lips made a wonderful answer. They kissed and kissed again, making out on the bench until they had the brilliant idea to move onto the couch, much more comfortable for this sort of activities. None of them kept track of the time but after a (long) while, they found themselves just lying together and Bucky had somehow ended up sprawled on top of Steve, his head somewhere at the level of the blond man's left collarbone.

"Steve?" Bucky said softly after a long moment of comfortable silence.

The teacher hummed to let him know that he had his attention but he didn't actually speak up, merely began to run his fingers through Bucky's long hair.

"I hope I won't scare you away with the stuff I'm going to say but I really need to say it, okay?" Bucky started, lifting his head to look straight into Steve's eyes. "This, this thing between us? I want it, really bad. But I'm not used to... let's say, relationships. Having someone I care for, except for Alexei. But that's also exactly what I want with you: I want a real relationship, I want to date you, properly. And it scares the hell out of me."

Steve's hand in his hair stilled. Apprehension hammering in his heart, Bucky waited for him to say something, anything, and when the blond male smiled above him, the pianist felt himself melt.

"I understand," Steve whispered, lips only millimetres away from his hair. "I want something serious too, Bucky. I'm... what you could call a romantic. I wouldn't have kissed you if I didn't want a proper relationship, I'm not like that."

At those words, a deep sigh of relief left Bucky's chest and he suddenly leaned against Steve again, his soft _Thank fucking God_ a little muffled against the fabric of the blond male's dark blue v-neck. Seconds later, he rose again, almost bumping into Steve's chin in the process.

"One more thing... I don't want Alexei to know. Yet. I will tell him, of course, but I want to take my time."

Steve understood what Bucky didn't say out loud: that he wanted to wait before telling his son, to make sure that they could have something stable and serious together before involving Alexei... Which also meant involving Steve in the child's life as something else than a teacher or even a friend of the family: as his father's lover. Yeah, baby steps were good for now.

They cuddled some more after that, both satisfied and glad to have broached the subject of what they expected and wanted out of their relation. Bucky hadn't voiced out that part but he had been terrified of being too forward and having his heart broken if Steve didn't see the situation like he did. But he knew he was way too far gone on the teacher already and he had preferred to lay his cards on the table early in the game, willing to put an end to it all right now instead of waiting for months before finding out that the other didn't want what he wanted.

But Steve did and Bucky could barely believe it, he who had always lacked luck in this regard... While people lined up to take him out on a date and have their way with him (or, well, they wished: Bucky didn't often agree with their plans and even though he'd had the occasional one-night stand, he didn't like it too much), few did want to date him long-term, mostly because of Alexei. Not that his son caused any problem, not at all, but Bucky had to admit that his kid and he were close and also, they'd gotten used to live together, just the two of them, so making room for a third person didn't come easy to him.

Maybe he could make it work with Steve though: Alexei loved his teacher and they had both welcomed him in their life with open arms, so... Maybe. Bucky sure hoped so.

  


  


Taking baby steps meant that Steve didn't spend the night at Bucky's. They both wanted to and they knew it, but they had just said they would take it slow, right ? So Steve kissed him goodbye and with a last touch of his fingers on Bucky's cheek, the blond male walked out and got onto his bike, departing in the night.

When he arrived home, with a smile as big and bright as the sun, Steve noticed that he had one missed call on his phone (that he hadn't checked at all during the evening, being a little busy) coming from Sam. Eyebrows arched up and expression turning into a frown, Steve read the message his friend had sent him upon failing to reach him: _call me back, even late. Please._ Worry crawled into his heart and Steve threw his jacket onto the back of his couch without the slightest care in the world as he frantically dialled Sam's number. The phone only had time to ring once before his friend answered the call.

"Hey, Steve," Sam greeted him, exhaustion and sadness in his voice.

"Hey," the blond replied, feeling his own throat close up at the other's quietness, "Sam, what's wrong?"

"I..." his friend started, before he coughed a little, "Uh, I'm sorry for... bothering you so late. How was your date?"

"Great. Really great. But please, Sam, don't do that thing where you ask about me and hide your own problem. You told me not to do that, you should listen to yourself from time to time. So, what's wrong?"

"Grandma," Sam finally whispered.

Steve closed his eyes and braced himself as he sat down on his couch: he'd rather not be standing if Sam had bad news to announce.

"How... Is she..." he started hesitantly, lifting his knees up to his chest and curling on himself in fear of what was to come.

"She's alive," Sam said without missing a beat, "That's... I didn't mean that she was... Shit, Steve, sorry, I didn't want to worry you like this. It's just... She didn't recognise me. And I can't do that anymore, Steve, I can't."

The teacher's heart shattered when he heard the broken sob Sam let out at the other end of the line, sniffling and distressed.

"At first she knew me," his friend added, "but then she... She got confused between my father and me. And in the end... She thought I was trying to rob her. The nurses had to throw me out because she was panicking."

"I'm so sorry, Sam," Steve whispered in the phone, hating himself for failing to find the right words, those that would appease his friend even a little - but which words had that power? "Do you want me to come over? I can be there in ten."

A short silence followed his question, just the time for Sam to swallow the lump in his throat.

"Yes, please. And if you could come with me tomorrow... I can't do it alone, Steve."

"I'll go with you," the blond male promised, already grabbing his leather jacket and his keys that he had left on the console table by the front door.

When Steve hung up, after Sam had thanked him several times on a sad tone, he realised that Bucky had texted him, a simple _Thank you for tonight_. It didn't erase his worry for Sam's grandma but as Steve walked out the door, his heart felt a little lighter.

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Bucky was listening to in his car is [Is this love ?](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GOJk0HW_hJw) by the band Whitesnake. The song he plays for Steve is [Bed of roses](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NvR60Wg9R7Q) by the band Bon Jovi.
> 
> Regarding the Greek cooking: a meze or mezze (μεζές) consists of several small dishes and is eaten either as a course or appetizers. It may be many things like Greek cheese, olives, eggplant dip or, my personal favorite, spanakopita (σπανακόπιτα) which is a sort of spinach and feta pie. The youvetsi or giouvetsi (γιουβέτσι) is a main course, made of meat and small pastas with tomato sauce. It is best with feta cheese and cinnamon in it !


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone ! If you follow me on tumblr, you already know why this chapter came later than planned, if not, here's the explanation: I had an accident with a horse last week, nothing too severe but enough to mess up my right arm. It hurt like a b**** and I couldn't write as I wanted to so... Here comes the chapter, at last. I hope you enjoy it :)

  


Spending his Sunday at the retirement home with Sam wasn't exactly what Steve had planned for his weekend but even if he had another choice, he wouldn't have it any other way, not when he could see how much his friend needed him by his side. Standing in front of the closed door of his grandmother's bedroom, Sam stayed still, not daring to enter the room and see how she was feeling today.

"Do you want me to go first?" Steve asked, resting a hand on Sam's left shoulder to give it a reassuring squeeze.

"Do you mind?" Sam whispered with a glance toward his friend, before he winced, "God, what kind of grandson am I? Can't even grow a pair and see his grandma..."

"Don't," Steve immediately interrupted him before the other man could blame himself any further. "It's okay, Sam, and also perfectly normal that you're scared to know whether she's feeling better than yesterday. I'll go first. Take a deep breath, alright?"

Sam nodded, eyes closed and mouth open as he slowly breathed out, coaxing the tense line of his shoulders in a more relaxed position.

"Okay," he eventually said, eyelids lifting and a brave, although wavering, smile on his lips, "Go in and I'll be there in five."

With a last pat on his friend's back, Steve knocked on the door twice then slowly pushed it open, taking a peek inside as he only poked his head through the opening. He immediately caught sight of the old woman, sitting up in her bed with that day's newspaper in her hands and her glasses on the bridge of her nose. She looked up, surprised to see him (maybe Steve hadn't knocked loudly enough, she couldn't hear too well anymore), before a huge smile split her face in two.

"If that ain't my little Stevie!" she exclaimed as she threw the newspaper on her bedside table, knocking down a bottle of water in the process, "Oops."

"I got this, Ella, don't worry," Steve said as he walked in the room, leaving the door open on purpose so that Sam could hear them talk and decide when to join them - if he did at all. "How are you feeling today?"

"Fine, fine," she waved dismissively, as if her health didn't matter, "now come and sit your perfect ass down! I've missed you. You have to tell me everything that happened since the last time I saw you."

The blond male laughed, relieved that Ella seemed to be bursting with energy this morning; he had always nicknamed her _Rock 'n' roll grandma_ in his mind and he could only be grateful that she still lived up to it now, even at eighty-four and in a bed in a retirement house. Steve picked up the fallen bottle and placed it back on the nightstand, before he, as she'd ordered him, sat his ass down.

"So," she whispered with a spark of conspiracy in her eyes as she leaned forward a little and took his hand, so big in her own bony, wrinkled fingers, "a little birdie told me a few days ago that you got your eye on someone?"

Steve couldn't help a snort at that: Ella had always showed an endless interest in his love life, never in an intrusive way but rather protective, as she didn't want a bad boy for her (almost) second grandson.

"It's a little more than that now, actually," he replied, knowing that he was smiling like a fool at the mere thought of Bucky.

"Oooooh," she cooed at him, unable to pinch his cheeks only because Steve leaned back a little, "that is a story I want to know!"

"Me too," Sam agreed as he took his first steps inside the room, making both Steve and the old woman look up. "Hey, grandma."

She narrowed her eyes at him and for a short, scary second, Steve feared that she didn't recognise her own grandson - and in Sam's eyes, he could see the exact same dread.

"Samuel Wilson," she then growled, which was not much more reassuring, "what the hell are you wearing?!"

"Uh, what?" Sam squeaked out, halting in his footsteps.

"That ugly sweater! Yellow looks awful on you, honey."

Her grandson stared at her in bewilderment, not knowing whether to cry in relief or just laugh and hug her, so Steve took it upon himself to gently interrupt and bring back Ella's attention on him - and he did good, because he caught Sam discreetly wiping at his eyes.

"So, about my boyfriend..." he chirruped, before he told them about his date with Bucky on the previous evening, under Ella's delighted eyes and wide smile.

Steve himself had to focus to keep his story on the innocent side and not throw in some of his less appropriate thoughts about Bucky, at least not in front of the woman he considered his grandmother; Sam would get a slightly more detailed version later, since Steve knew that his friend would ask him if they had slept together (for science only, not out of mere curiosity of course.) That was the kind of topic they felt comfortable enough to discuss or freak out over together, but definitely not while in the same room as Ella. Oh, don't get it wrong: it would definitely _not_ embarrass her or make it awkward for her to talk about Steve's or Sam's sexual life, not at all. _They_ would be the ones to get mercilessly teased about it and since it had already happened before, they didn't really want to experience those uncomfortable minutes again. Ever. Even like this, neither Steve nor Sam could be sure that she wouldn't try to digress and bring up the topic in the conversation.

And of course, as Steve got to the part where Bucky had played a song for him, Ella totally neglected the romance that the blond male had been thinking (dreaming) about almost all night and asked, eyebrows wiggling:

"So, did you bend him over that piano and give it to him good?"

Next to him, Sam fell off his chair.

  


  


A huge smile curled up Bucky's lips in the afternoon, when his phone vibrated on the kitchen countertop while he was doing the dishes - there was not much to clean as he had eaten lunch alone, since Alexei was still at Clint's and Nat's place and would stay there until the evening: Bucky would join them for dinner and only after that would he come back home with his son.

Shaking his hands above the sink and then wiping them on a hand towel, Bucky sauntered to the countertop, half-expecting and half-hoping to find a text from Steve, and he wasn't disappointed.

_Hey Bucky, want to meet up for coffee? My place, at 4?_

The young man didn't even care that he was smiling like a fool as he stared down at his phone (no one could see him anyway) and started to type a positive answer. He had spent his whole morning wondering whether he should call Steve or text him or just do nothing and wait; he didn't... Hell, he didn't know what to do. How did dating even work? Bucky wasn't used to it and he didn't want to seem pushy after one day, so he had refrained from doing anything at all (with some difficulty, he had to admit to it.) Steve and he had agreed to take it slow, which probably didn't mean that they couldn't talk and yet, Bucky hadn't dared to take that first step and simply initiate a conversation or suggest they see each other.

But Steve just did that. The happiness bursting inside Bucky's chest needed a way out before the young man broke something in his excitement, so he released his emotions using the only method he knew: he all but ran to the piano, hit his knee as he sat down, and his pained groan was drowned under the music when his fingers started, almost of their own accord, to play Vivaldi's Spring.

It had been one day only, not even twenty-four hours actually, and Bucky was already so happy that it was borderline ridiculous. He couldn't have cared any less.

  


  


Monday rimed with bad day. Well, at least this week: usually, Steve enjoyed going back to school on Mondays, a fact he knew that many of his students didn't find as appealing as he did himself. Today though, like many teenagers, he would have loved to stay in bed and sleep a few more hours: the headache pounding inside his skull and his runny nose had, without surprise, not motivated him to get up and out of his bed, but he didn't have much of a choice.

Steve certainly looked like shit, because as soon as they saw him enter their classroom, several kids of his twelfth grade class (which he should try to stop calling kids, really) had asked him if he was alright and it took _a lot_ to get students to worry about a teacher's health. Most of the time, they hoped their teachers would stumble and fall down the stairs.

The blond male had probably caught a cold somewhere... It had been a while since the last time so it was probably bound to happen sooner or later, yet Steve would have preferred not to be sick now that he had a boyfriend: it made it hard to make out, not to mention other activities. Not that Bucky and he were at that step yet, not at all ! The other man had come to his place the previous day for a coffee and they had ended up on his couch, making out with hesitation at first, discovering each other's mouth before their hands ventured a little lower, and Steve had found out that Bucky started squirming whenever fingers came a little too close to his ribs, even with a shirt between his skin and the tickling fingertips. They had done nothing beside kissing (sometimes with a passion and intensity that had left them breathless), even though they had both been hard by the time Bucky had to leave.

Watching Bucky leave had awaken a deep sense of longing inside Steve's heart and the thought that he didn't know when he would see Bucky again had filled him with sadness; keeping their relation a secret for Alexei meant that they couldn't exactly meet up wherever and whenever they wanted to, so they would have to figure out the right moments. Alexei couldn't spend his whole weekends at the Barton's while his father went out, Bucky wouldn't agree to that (and neither would Steve); the teacher worked the whole day on Mondays and Bucky did on Tuesdays, but since he had quite a long lunch break, maybe they would be able to meet up and eat a sandwich together.

So far, it was their only possibility, without counting the occasional Friday night when Bucky would come back home and see that Steve was still there, tutoring his son - maybe Steve should really take his time driving so that he would start a little later and increase his chances of bumping into Bucky? Well, if he wasn't sick to the point of not leaving his bed by then, of course.

Steve was currently sneezing his way through his lesson about George Orwell's book, _1984_ , and his throat was beginning to feel dry and itchy, which didn't make the situation any better. His students looked so concerned (although he noticed some boys who were chuckling to themselves, obviously amused) that he eventually stopped, unable to speak any longer without lighting up a fire in his pharynx with every word, and told them to keep (or start, for several of them) working on the essay they were supposed to turn in the following week.

Thankfully, his plans for his sixth grade class today involved the presentation of the results of his kids' team work and he didn't have to talk too much, mostly listen.

"Hello everyone," he tried to greet cheerfully when he walked in the classroom, only to choke and cough a little. "Sorry. Uh, so... During the past two weeks, you h... you h... h..."

Steve sneezed, twice, then took a deep breath and went on, pausing from time to time to make sure he wasn't about to die from coughing or sneezing:

"You have worked together on your argumentative speech so that you would be able to defend your opinions during a debate, so let's see how you'll manage. I need volunteers. Anyone wants to go first?"

A few hands raised themselves and Steve smiled, pleased. He knew from experience that presentations in high school could freak out some students and be a huge motivation for others; doing them in groups could help sometimes, as long as one didn't claim to be the boss and didn't overwhelm the others, and seeing that some of his kids were willing to go first today warmed up Steve's heart.

"Alright, Chris and Samir, you go first," he decided.

Steve gladly took a seat at the back of the classroom while the two boys scrambled to their feet and got to the front, fumbling a little with themselves to figure out where they would stand and who would speak first.

The short debates followed one another without trouble and the only interruption happened after half an hour, when Brock Rumlow knocked at the door and peeked inside, looking puzzled for a second since he didn't spot Steve immediately, then smiling as he realised that his friend was at the back.

"Sorry girls," the science teacher apologised to Elisabeth and Lucy, who had been in the middle of their presentation, "I'll be real quick. Steve, can I borrow some chalk from you? There's nothing left in my classroom."

Steve nodded and stood up to check in the narrow closet at the back of the room, where he kept chalks, dictionaries, grammars, some classics of literature and everything that could ever prove useful to an English teacher; as he turned his back on them, the blond male felt the nape of his neck burn under the weight of his students' stare, fixated on him and Brock, who had walked across the room to join Steve. He knew they had all turned around to watch their interactions... Probably hoping for a kiss.

Brock and Steve had dated for a while, the previous year. They had always been friends and they had wanted to see if they could work out as more... Turned out they were waaaaay better off friends and colleagues than anything else, which didn't mean they had refrained from being all over each other for a while - now, in hindsight, they had been friends with benefits more than they had boyfriends. Thank God they had tried to be discreet and had kept it PG on school grounds or else, they would have been caught doing much more than just kissing each other... (Okay, not true: Brock had slapped his ass too. Detail.)

So now, every time the both of them were in the same room, all eyes seemed drawn to them like a compass to the North.

"Focus, everyone," Steve tried to scold as he handed a box of chalk to Brock, only managing to actually croak out a hoarse _'cus, 'ryone_.

Brock snorted at his poor attempt of staying in control of the class and the blond male had to dig his hands in his pockets not to punch his friend's shoulder and complain like a child.

"Get out now," he groaned, mouthing the word _asshole_ at him, which only sent Brock into a fit of chortled laughter, until he complied and walked out, shoulders still shaking with amusement as he closed the door behind himself.

After that, nothing more disrupted the class but by the end of the lesson, Steve truly felt like an elephant had run him over and like he had swallowed nails. He would probably have to cancel his lunch with Bucky the next day if he didn't want to make him sick as well (and then it would pass onto Alexei and the rest of the class, which, no thanks. If he hadn't already contaminated half his students, of course.)

Speaking of Bucky and Alexei, the boy came up to him at the end of the lesson, looking a little unsure and confused.

"Uh, Mister Rogers?"

"Yes, Alexei?" the teacher's voice cracked on the last syllable, his throat too dry to let the words flow smoothly. "Do you need something?"

Steve had to admit that he didn't see what the kid would ask him: he had done great during his presentation, better than he would have if that assignment had come up earlier in the school year, and he had already asked a few questions right after Matthew and he had finished. Of course the teacher didn't mind talking a while longer with a student and clear up any other concept still a little out of grasp but... He was tired and sick, his only wish was to curl up in bed and sleep, so he didn't really feel like staying at school one more minute, not even for Alexei.

"No, I just... I have a message?" the child said with hesitation, as if he didn't fully understand himself. "Dad told me in the morning to tell you that he says hi."

Steve felt a stupid grin appear on his face in spite of the exhaustion but he tried to remain serious as he replied:

"Oh. That's... very nice of him," Steve had to stop speaking for a few seconds, just the time to cough and nearly hack up a lung, then he added with teary eyes, "Tell him I say hi too, will you?"

"Sure, Mister Rogers."

Steve watched the child leave the classroom with a fond smile on his lips. He was still exhausted of course, that headache wouldn't go away in a blink, but knowing Bucky had thought of him that morning filled him with happiness. He had really needed that.

Although aware that he should go back home and get some rest, Steve stayed in his classroom a while longer as he took out his phone and typed a text, feeling almost giddy (but maybe that was the beginning of a fever) as he sent it to his boyfriend.

_Hello to you too :)_

The answer came up almost immediately:

_Glad u got the message!_

Steve was about to answer and apologise for being forced to cancel their lunch the next day, when his phone vibrated several times as he received a string of messages coming one after another:

_Is it ok 2 say I miss u already?_

_Cause I do_.

 _Also, I wanna kiss you_.

 _Hard_.

Thank God Steve was alone in his classroom, because the young man whined softly as he read the two last messages. He wanted that too, to kiss Bucky and cuddle with him on his couch or in his bed, without even considering anything sexual. Just... Being close to him, talking to him... And making out, yes, that too. He wanted it so bad, it was unfair that he would have to wait.

 _I'm sick_ , he typed, _still want to kiss me?_

 _More than ever_.

 _Sweet_ , Steve answered, smiling to himself. _But I don't think I'll be able to go out tomorrow... Sorry :(_

_Maybe I can bring u lunch? Then I'll cover u in blankets and we'll cuddle!_

That sounded fantastic, even if only on a screen between Steve's hands - he couldn't wait to get the real deal. As always with Bucky, actually: even when they were just friends, the blond male felt ecstatic at the thought of seeing Alexei's dad, exchanging a few words on the phone, spending a quiet evening at Bucky's place after tutoring his son...

Now that they were dating and had already told each other that they wanted something serious, he knew the best was yet to come and he sure hoped it would last. He wanted it to.

 _That would be awesome_ , Steve typed with a grin, _see you tomorrow then! I can't wait :)_

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit shorter than usual but filled with fluff, I hope you liked it ! Many thanks to everyone who reads and leaves kudos on this story and special thanks for the comments, they make my day ;)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone ! As promised, here comes the 8th chapter, sooner than usual. I hope you will like it ! Russian translations are in the end notes and remember that grammar/spelling mistakes in Alexei's lines are intentional ;)

  


Three weeks into dating Steve and Bucky felt like he was going to die from an overdose of happiness. If he had known that having someone could be so awesome, maybe he'd have given it a shot earlier... Well, no, because then maybe he would have had someone already or, hell, maybe he'd have been married, and Steve would never have appeared in the picture. He didn't want to imagine something like that.

He had not behaved like a monk during Alexei's childhood but dated? Never had. Back then, finding someone to do anything non sexual had proven to be hard: more often than not, Bucky hadn't trusted anyone enough to meet Alexei, not to mention build a life and a family with them, and the rare times when he had considered the first option, the other person had run away from him and his little boy to raise. Hence, the lack of dating.

Right now though, lying on Steve's couch with his back to his boyfriend's chest and those big, warm hands massaging his tense shoulders, Bucky could let himself think that dating was the best. He was in heaven. Really.

 _Steve_ was the best. The time they spent together mostly consisted of lunch breaks and sometimes an afternoon, when their respective schedules allowed it, but Bucky never left or watched his boyfriend leave with the feeling of not having enough time dedicated to him. The teacher and he made the best out of every single one of their escapades and Bucky felt like he was walking on clouds after meeting up with Steve. His boss, Maria, had teased him about that once, when he'd shown up at the studio after his lunch break, looking blissfully - and obviously - in love and happy, which had got her to ask if the sex was _that_ good.

He hoped so. Steve and he hadn't had the occasion to christen the sheets (couch, kitchen table, rug, whatever) yet but Bucky was definitely planning onto. He wanted him so bad it was probably ridiculous but... Who wouldn't wish to hold this gorgeous blond male tight in their arms, to kiss every inch of his skin, breathe in the sweet scent of his cologne, hear the soft gasps of pleasure coming from his plump, bitten lips? Bucky wanted all of that and so much more. Steve's hands on his body, pressing him against his broad chest, holding him down, still, as he trailed his mouth along every curve of his silhouette, placed light kisses on the inside of his thighs and...

Fuck. Focus, Bucky! Now wasn't a good time to get hard and lust for Steve, not when he had to be back at the studio in... twenty-five minutes, he found out as he glanced at the clock on the wall behind Steve's desk, visible even from his spot on the couch. Even if he popped a boner right now and if his boyfriend suggested that he do something about it, Bucky knew he wouldn't satisfy himself with a quick handjob. Maybe it would feel good, sure, but it would mostly feel rushed and he didn't want that.

Steve probably wouldn't, either: the blonde male was a romantic at heart and even though he didn't need rose petals on his bed for their first time (Steve had told him so himself), he needed to feel in the right mood before initiating sexual activities. Bucky respected that and he wouldn't even try to start anything if his boyfriend didn't give him the green light first. With Steve, the young man was learning the true meaning of patience and frustration and holy hell, he loved it.

His patience had its limits though, but in this matter and for Steve's comfort, he was willing to wait as long as needed. However, something else couldn't suffer any delay, not anymore: the big revelation of their relationship to Alexei. Yes, yes, Bucky had preferred to wait before telling his son but... It would make everything easier. First of all, Steve and he wouldn't need to hide and plan their encounters as carefully anymore. Second, Alexei and Steve would have the opportunity to work on their relationship and figure out how to go from a student and his teacher to... a kid and his stepdad? Kind of? Bucky knew that this special point worried Steve a little, regarding school matters and objectivity during tests and exams, so maybe the sooner the better? (Okay, he had no idea about that.)

Most of all, he was dying to reveal their relation to his son and see his reaction. Honestly, the anticipation was making him crazy with questions and, he had to admit, apprehension. What if Alexei didn't like the idea of Steve as his father's lover? God, Bucky just wanted - needed - his son to be happy for him... It would break his heart otherwise. Maybe _the sooner the better_ also applied on this subject: if he knew what Alexei thought about this, it would put the unstoppable maelstrom of questions and fears to an end.

"Stevie?" Bucky whispered, not willing to speak louder and break the quiet and peaceful atmosphere surrounding them, in their tiny bubble of tranquillity.

"Yes?" his boyfriend answered on the same tone, resting his chin on Bucky's shoulder and slipping his hands around the pianist's waist.

"What are you doing this Sunday?"

"I... Well, I'm probably going to visit Sam's grandmother," Steve replied. "You know, my best friend? You have to meet him one of these days, I told him so much about you... You wanted to do something on Sunday? I'm sorry, I don't know how long I'll stay with them..."

"It's okay," Bucky reassured the teacher, softly shaking his head and smiling as he felt Steve's fingers tuck a wayward strand of hair behind his ear, tickling his sensitive skin. "Another time. I was just thinking that maybe you could come over and we would... you know, tell Alexei."

A sudden wave of panic hit Bucky when Steve leaned away from him, only to settle down again when he felt his boyfriend shift and lie on his side so that they were facing each other: the other man was smiling at him, so tenderly that Bucky's cheeks heated up out of the blue - damn Steve and his so-expressive eyes, currently carrying feelings none of them had voiced out yet.

"Are you serious?" the teacher asked, barely able to hide his amazement.

"Yeah..." Bucky whispered against Steve's lips before placing his mouth on them, trying and failing to resist kissing him. "I want to tell him and... Well, see what will come out of it."

"Good things, I hope," Steve chuckled, then added seriously, "Thank you Bucky."

"Uh? Why?"

The blond male's face, on top of being so distracting, was illuminated by the softest of smiles that, strangely, pierced through Bucky's heart with even more acuity as he said:

"For trusting me so much. Thank you."

What could he do besides kissing Steve? How could he answer that without saying those words that he knew were right on the tip of his tongue, but that he didn't want to let out just yet ? So Bucky did just that, he leaned in until he could feel the warm breath on his own lips, then he pressed up and captured that tempting mouth with his.

If he'd had anyone else in his arms (and more time), Bucky would certainly have tried to go further than this, to turn these slow, deep kisses into gentle bites along Steve's neck, and he would have crawled into his lap to rock against him, slowly at first, then faster and faster until pleasure drowned them both.

He didn't, though. When they broke their kiss to breathe, Bucky simply lay there, taking one of Steve's hands in his to caress the pale skin. He loved those hands: they were so soft on the back, rougher on the palm with how much chalk he used at school, but always so gentle with him.

"Hey, Bucky..." Steve started, "Since you want to tell Alexei, I was wondering... Do you have any plans for Christmas?"

"We go to Clint's and Nat's for lunch," Bucky answered, "but we stay together on Christmas Eve. Why? Did you want to..."

The young man grew quiet, realising that maybe he was getting ahead of himself: perhaps Steve had only asked out of curiosity and didn't mean to imply they could spend Christmas Eve together, all three of them.

"Yeah," Steve added in his place, "I'd like it if you could come over. Both of you. Just... Tell Alexei before that day, okay?"

Bucky laughed at that and Steve answered with that damn smile of his.

"Of course," Bucky said, squeezing his lover's hand. "Or it would be a little awkward. _Merry Christmas_ солнышко _, oh, Steve's my boyfriend by the way, do you want to open the presents now?_ "

The teacher, who had chuckled at the Russian unconsciously slipping into Bucky's language, suddenly worried as he saw his boyfriend's face fall, a look of awful realisation in the eyes.

"What?" Steve enquired in concern. "Buck, what's wrong?"

"The... the presents," he stammered, "I... Shit, I haven't bought any yet, I forgot. Fuck, fuck, fuck, I have one week and half to find those damned gifts. Steve, how am I going to do that?"

The teacher merely answered by bringing his boyfriend closer to him and sighing with satisfaction as he buried his face into the crook of Bucky's neck, which had the merit of calming him down almost instantly: the young man couldn't keep on panicking, not while he had Steve curled up against him like a cat.

"You'll be fine," the blond male mumbled against his skin. "I'm sure you'll manage, you're like a super dad or something. You're Alexei's hero, you know?"

"Did he tell you that?" Bucky asked, his throat closing up unexpectedly.

Loving his son was as natural as breathing to Bucky: Alexei was his blood, his only family except for his parents and his sisters who lived six hours away from New York and whom he didn't see as often as he would like (spending ten years in Russia had probably contributed to pull his sisters and him apart, he had to admit, although it was a whole other story regarding his parents) and the young man couldn't imagine not loving Alexei so much. The opposite? Yeah, he could. Kids rebelling against the authority of their parents, having a huge fight and choosing to get away or even, not go _back_ , like he had? Yeah, happened all the time.

As a father, many awful possibilities scared Bucky, even if only ever thought in his mind: Alexei's getting sick, being bullied at school, not feeling good with himself and in his skin, being heartbroken because of a girl (or a boy or anyone else, not like it was his place to talk anyway) but the worst, most frightening of all, was thinking that maybe, one day, his son would stop loving him. Bucky knew that probably made him selfish but... Alexei and he had been alone nearly forever, just the two of them together against the rest of the world, and losing his affection would kill him, nothing less. Now, hearing Steve say those words, that Alexei's hero was his father, Bucky had to focus so that he wouldn't cry.

"Not in those exact terms," Steve replied, apparently oblivious to Bucky's internal struggle, "but you are virtually everything he talks about or even, writes about, regarding his school work."

"Steeeeve," Bucky whined as he covered his face with both of his hands, "stop it."

"Why?" his boyfriend asked, suddenly perking up in excitation, "Are you blushing?"

"No!" the other man exclaimed, but since he liked blushing better than crying, he added, "Yes. Maybe. So what if I am?"

He told his last sentence with defiance, chin lifted up and eyes sparkling, but he understood that it had been a mistake as soon as he caught sight of Steve's smug face.

"You are adorable," the teacher said softly, so genuinely that it made Bucky turn even redder than before.

The only effective way to wipe off Steve's smirk involved kissing, which the both of them gave into easily enough; needless to say, Bucky came back late to the studio but even Maria's scowl didn't manage to kill the butterflies that were currently dancing the salsa in his stomach.

  


  


"Good job everyone," Steve praised his students at the end of that day's lesson, "Don't forget to have your parents sign the authorisation for the visit to the Smithsonian with Miss Carter next week and bring it back to me tomorrow."

"Are you going with us, Mister Rogers?" a girl asked, suddenly looking excited at the prospect of having her favourite teacher walk the hallways of the museum next to her.

"No, Leila, I'm not," Steve answered as gently as possible, even though her wide, disappointed eyes made him feel a little bit guilty. "You will be going with Miss Carter and Mister Coulson."

The teen walked out of the classroom with hunched shoulders and Steve sighed to himself, shaking his head. He wished it was the first time that it happened but... Apparently, having been outed on school grounds and being known as an openly gay teacher didn't keep the girls from liking him a little too much for his taste.

Only when Steve was done sliding his books in his bag did he realise that someone was still in the classroom, patiently waiting for the teacher to notice them. Alexei. Standing awkwardly by his desk, hesitant and shy, much more so than Steve had seen him in the past few days and weeks.

"Can I talk you, Mister Rogers?" the boy asked as soon as he caught sight of Steve's blue eyes set on him. "Uh, of personal matters?"

Oh. Dangerous waters there. Kids who needed to talk to a teacher often did so because no one else would listen to them and most of the time, it involved something the children were not comfortable telling their parents. Under any other circumstances, Steve wouldn't have hesitated the slightest bit but here, with Alexei? He halted. He was dating the boy's father and although he was supposed to keep his students' secrets, well, secret, he knew he wouldn't be able to hide them from Bucky if those were important. However, if he denied the boy, who would he turn to in order to talk about whatever it was that he had on his mind?

"You can, Alexei," he finally replied, hoping and praying that he was not digging his own grave here. "Do you want to sit down?"

"Uh, no, thank you," Alexei quickly said, before he stammered, "You... you're friend with my dad, right?"

Ah, so much for praying and keeping his fingers crossed...

"Yes," the teacher answered, hoping that he didn't look as uncomfortable as he felt. "Why?"

"It's... I just... Did he tell you..." Alexei tried, apparently unsure where he ought to begin with, until he took a deep breath and explained, "I think my dad is seeing someone. As in, _dating_ someone."

Oooooh shit.

"Why do you think so?" Steve asked in genuine surprise, well aware that Bucky hadn't told his son anything yet.

"Well..." Alexei started, "He thinks he's subtle but he really isn't. I mean, he's always on his phone, sending texts and all that... He smiles all the time and he... He... He plays Свадьба Фигаро !"

"He plays what?" the blond man wondered aloud, clueless.

"The... Ah... Figaro's wedding? I don't know the name in English. But it's one of Mozart's most hap... _happiest_ works. He plays that or Vivaldi. Really happy stuff. He's in love, Mister Rogers, I'm telling you!"

At that, Steve had a hard time not jumping up and down: if someone knew Bucky and could tell what he was thinking or feeling, who could do it better than Alexei? However, he deflated a little as he asked the dreadful question:

"Is it a bad thing that your father might be in love?"

"No, of course not!" came the answer, and Alexei looked at him as if he'd grown a second head.

"Okay," Steve nodded, bracing himself for the answer that would come as he asked, "then why do you look so... down about it?"

"Because I don't know who they are," Alexei explained on a low, dejected tone. "So, since you two are friends, I hoped maybe you knew... But I'm not even sure that I want to know because... What if I don't like them, Mister Rogers? What if my dad introduces us and we don't get along? I don't want to disappoint him."

Oh. Well, Alexei's reluctance to his father dating made a lot more sense now: his fears were just the same as Steve's - and probably Bucky's too. The young teenager liked Steve just fine as his teacher and even trusted him enough to talk about this particular topic but what about being more, being part of the family? For Steve, wanting to date and build up a serious relationship obviously meant accepting Alexei, which he had from the start, but for the kid? No one could force him to be nice to Steve if he didn't want him as a parental figure of sorts.

"Uh," the teacher started as he sat down on his desk, "Honestly, I'm not too sure about what to tell you. I think... I think that you should trust your father's judgment: I'm sure he wouldn't even try to introduce you to someone that he doesn't consider good enough."

"Don't they say that love is blind?" Alexei shot back, concern written all over his face.

"Yes, that's a saying," Steve admitted, a little taken aback. "I guess that you'll have to wait and see who your father is dating to make your own opinion."

The teacher didn't like to beat around the bush like this but of course he couldn't simply tell the boy that he was Bucky's secret lover: the decision of when and how to reveal their relationship belonged to the child's father.

"If your dad seems happy with that person, try to be happy for him," Steve eventually suggested, "but if you really can't stand your father's partner, say so. I'm sure James would rather know how you feel than force you to be in their company. Just... Try to give them a chance, okay? Maybe they are just as nervous as you are to meet you."

"You think?"

"I'm sure of it," Steve nodded and he really wasn't lying.

Of course he had met Alexei and he knew the boy already but still, the apprehension was bubbling in his stomach and Steve couldn't remember having ever wished to live up to someone's expectations so badly. The day Bucky would explain the situation to his son would hopefully bring relief to the three of them instead of more complications...

"Thank you, Mister Rogers," Alexei said, picking up his backpack at his feet. "I'm glad I could talk you about this."

"Talk _to_ you," Steve corrected with a smile. "Anytime."

As the child slowly walked away, the teacher tried not to feel guilty about this whole conversation; he really hoped that the boy wouldn't get mad at him for keeping the truth hidden from him or worse, direct his anger at his father, once he would learn about the true bond Steve shared with Bucky. The teacher promised to himself that he would do his best to show Alexei just how much he wanted the kid's father happiness and he would make sure that the child knew Steve wasn't trying to take his place in his father's heart.

"Alexei, wait!" he suddenly exclaimed, making the boy stop dead in his tracks a few steps away from the door. "If... If it helps..."

The teacher hesitated for a second or two, until he finally breathed out, with a dry throat and jabs of pain in his chest:

"If it ever came down to it... I know that your father would choose you, over whoever he might be dating. So don't worry too much about it, okay?"

"Okay," Alexei agreed, "Thank you, Mister Rogers."

Steve nodded and watched the boy leave the classroom with sad eyes; he had told the complete truth with these last words, he knew that Bucky would choose his son over him if they really didn't get along. Could he blame his boyfriend for that? No. Not really; of course it would hurt but who was he to place himself between a father and his child? He wouldn't stand it, to see Bucky's and Alexei's relationship torn apart because of him.

The blonde man fished his phone out of his pocket and dialled Bucky's number: he needed to know if Alexei's father had decided when he should talk about all of this to his son, just to be ready for the fallout. The phone rang several times without any answer and Steve was just this close to hang up when he heard a click.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Bucky," Steve greeted him more cheerfully than he thought himself able to do, "are you busy right now? Is it a bad time?"

"No, no, it's our break actually," Bucky said in reassurance. "My phone was at the bottom of my bag, that's why it took some time. So, what's... Oh God, Maria is scowling at me, I think she's jealous of us."

Steve chortled at that but it might have sounded a little strained because Bucky immediately caught up on it and asked:

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Steve mumbled as he mentally face-palmed (worrying his boyfriend was the last thing he wanted to do), "It's just that Alexei stayed a little later at school today, he wanted to talk to me."

"Why?" his boyfriend urged him on, "About your lessons? Something else? Does he have a problem at school and he doesn't want to tell me about it? Oh shit, is he bullied?"

"Breathe, Bucky," Steve calmly enjoined him, his lips unconsciously curling up. "We didn't talk about any of that. Actually, it was all about you: Alexei believes that you're dating someone. He said, and I quote, that you think you're being subtle, but you really aren't."

Silence at the other end of the line, surprise and puzzlement audible even in the void.

"I am the embodiment of subtlety," Bucky eventually groaned, which made his boyfriend's shoulders shake with repressed laughter, genuine this time. "You didn't tell him, did you?"

"I didn't," the teacher replied. "It's not exactly my role... I just don't think it can wait much longer, he'll either figure it out first or be mad at us for having kept it a secret for so long if we delay it even more..."

"Don't worry, Steve," Bucky said softly. "I'm going to tell him, I promise. I just want to wait a little. I'd rather tell him after this Friday and not have the both of you feeling hella uncomfortable during the tutoring, you know? I'll tell him this week-end, probably... I want to make sure it's the right time to do it, though."

"I understand," Steve agreed. "I'm not telling you to spill the beans within the next hour, you know? Take your time."

"Okay..." Bucky added, and Steve imagined him closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, sitting at his piano, "I'll tell him before Christmas anyway. Hey, you know that I... Uh? Please, Maria, just one more minute, I... What? Okay, okay, I'm coming, jeez."

Steve waited for Bucky's conversation with whom he guessed was his boss to end, then he asked:

"Break's over?"

"Yeah..." Bucky sighed. "I'm sorry, I gotta go. I'll see you on Friday night, right?"

"Right," the teacher confirmed. "I can't wait."

  


  


When Steve came back home, the first thing he did after making himself some relaxing tea was turn on his laptop and look up The Marriage of Figaro; he found a video of the Overture and spent a few minutes sitting there, listening to the music with his eyes closed and behind his eyelids, he imagined that Bucky was playing for him. Heaven on Earth.

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter ! We will learn more about Bucky's past (and Alexei's) in the next chapters so stick around ^^ Thank you for reading !
> 
> Russian words and translations:
> 
> Солнышко/Solnyshko - Sun or sunshine, which is a Russian term of endearment frequently used and especially for kids.
> 
> Свадьба Фигаро/Svad'ba Figaro - The Marriage of Figaro (Le nozze di Figaro).


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone ! This chapter has come earlier than planned but after the bombing in Brussels, I needed to get my mind off things and write some fluff/Stucky being cute for my own sanity.  
> Just as a warning: this chapter includes implied sexual content, a mention of abortion (only as a possibility) and teenagers drinking. Now, it happens in Russia and no law prohibits underage drinking (by the way, majority in Russia is reached at 18) but I still thought I'd mention it.  
> I hope you'll enjoy this chapter ;)

  


  


Of course, just because Bucky planned on having a heartfelt talk with his son about important matters, life seemed to take pleasure in getting in his way and not giving him the slightest opportunity to broach the topic of his relationship with Steve. The weekend (perfect time to tell Alexei everything, or so he thought) had been busy, thanks to a certain family living next door who had decided to invade them. Well, okay, maybe Bucky was a little too bitter: after all, it wasn't the Barton's fault that a pipe in their bathroom had exploded... Or maybe it was, since Natasha had said that the pipe had only been shaking before Clint tried to fix it. Whatever.

Alexei and Nathaniel, being reunited together, had then proceeded to make the best possible puppy eyes to their parents so that they would allow them to go the movies, which they had because they were weak and their sons, way too cute when they looked at them with those huge, shining eyes.

Bucky didn't regret it: they had spent a great day, the five of them all together, and he couldn't find it in himself to feel guilty for not telling Alexei about he and Steve. He had time, he could talk to him the next day.

Had he mentioned already that life didn't like him? Their Sunday had been as gloomy and trying as their Saturday had been good and merry. First, Zima had managed to crash into the plant stand in the hall, which had resulted in a white dog covered in dirt and bouncing around the place with the sole aim to spread the soil as far into the house as he could. An unfortunate attempt at bathing Zima later, Bucky had found himself as soaked as his dog and way more pissed than the Samoyed, looking at him with innocent eyes and his tongue lolling on the side of his smiling mouth. Little bastard.

He had barely had the time to calm down when Alexei had complained about their lunch, which Bucky himself had to admit couldn't be considered a great success when it consisted almost exclusively of canned sauce and canned _everything_ but hey, having the Barton's over the previous day meant that he hadn't had the time to go grocery shopping after his morning class at the studio. So yeah, maybe canned food sucked but at least, they had something to eat, even if it tasted a bit bland and gross, even, since Bucky had forgotten, all pissed off that he was, to add spices.

To top it all, Alexei had gotten all worked up over his mathematics homework and cried in frustration when he realised that he had no idea how to find the right answers. Bucky had tried to help, since he used to be good at that back when he was in high school... Years ago. And to be honest, he didn't remember much, which had not assisted his son in his work at all.

Seeing that the both of them were in a sour mood, Bucky had deemed it wiser not to talk about Steve that day, which only left him one week and a few days to find the perfect opportunity, before Christmas.

Yay.

  


  


That Monday night, Bucky dropped Alexei at his new friend's, Matthew. Their class would make their trip to Washington DC the next day to visit the Smithsonian and Matt's parents had suggested that Alexei spent the night at their place, which was closer to the school than their own. The kids had to be up and gathered in front of the school gates much earlier than usual to leave New York in the wee hours of the morning and Bucky couldn't have been happier of such a generous proposition.

Sure, he was glad that he wouldn't have to wake up extra early to drive Alexei while being still half-asleep but more than that, he was thrilled that his son got on that well with the other child, to the point of having a sleepover. When they had left Russia, his little boy had feared not to find any friend in America and be _that_ kid, the stranger with the eastern accent and the bad English, the one who couldn't fit. Bucky knew those fears fairly well, as he had felt the same way when he had landed in Moscow... Only, he had been seventeen at that time, not eleven.

Now, he hoped that everything would go well, that the boys would have fun together but without making too much noise so that they would let Matthew's parents sleep... Speaking of sleep, someone else would get their first sleepover: Alexei being away for the night meant that Steve and he could get dinner together and then sleep together - as in, in the _same bed_ , at least. Bucky wouldn't mind to take it a step further but they had time and if Steve didn't want it, he wouldn't push. He just really, reeeeeally needed to hold his blond boyfriend in his arms for the night; his only difficulty left was to decide whether he wanted to be the big or the little spoon. On one hand: having his nose into Steve's soft hair, perfect spot to breathe his scent and slot himself against that firm, dreamy ass. On the other hand, Steve's muscular arms around him, holding him, protecting him.

Oh God, scratch all of that: he definitely wanted to be the little spoon. Oh yes. Basking into Steve's warm embrace would be a delight.

Bucky was just checking the last details of the table, namely that he had placed the forks and knifes at the same distance on each side of the plate and that the glasses were perfectly clean, when Steve rang the doorbell. He hurried to the doorway, followed by Zima, sashaying behind him with curiosity as to who exactly was on the other side of the door, and Bucky gave the answer to his dog when he opened the door to reveal the blond teacher... Who was carrying flowers in his hands.

"Hello sir," Steve said with a polite smile, "I have a delivery for a certain James Barnes who apparently is, and I quote my customer, the most gorgeous man of New York. I guess I got the right house, then."

"New York only?" Bucky couldn't help but tease, actually hoping to hide his reddening cheeks as he took the flowers from Steve's outstretched hands.

"Yes sir. My customer also said something about your incredible modesty."

Bucky laughed and grabbed his boyfriend's wrist to drag him inside the house and kiss him hello properly, before he took the time to really observe the flowers. Emotion threatened to overwhelm him at the sight of these red roses, a classic, probably, but also the first flowers Bucky had ever been offered. No one had ever... thought about it.

"Thank you, Steve," he whispered, voice brittle and eyes suspiciously wet. "Come here, give me your coat and your scarf, make yourself comfortable."

Bucky made sure to swallow his emotions while he gathered Steve's coat and put it in the narrow closet in the hall, then he took care of the flowers, carefully placing them in a vase that he filled with water.

"Thank you," he repeated.

Maybe Steve understood his feelings or simply acted on instinct but either way, he reacted exactly how Bucky needed him to: the blond man hugged him from behind, his arms wrapped around his boyfriend's waist and his head buried into the other's long hair, peppering soft kisses up and down the column of his neck. His breath, hot against Bucky's ticklish skin, was driving him crazy. If Steve didn't stop... God, if he didn't stop that immediately, Bucky would... He would...

Whatever Bucky might have done (which certainly included pressing Steve against the wall to devour his sinful mouth) was hindered by the shrill sound of the timer going off in the kitchen.

"Dinner's ready," he announced, turning around in his boyfriend's embrace to peck his lips before he strode into the kitchen.

Steve followed him dutifully, his intent to help clear as crystal and written on his face, readable like an open book, but Bucky immediately stopped him as he raised a hand:

"Nope, young man, you be out of my kitchen this instant!"

"Let me help you? Please."

"Not this time. Shoo."

Bucky stood firm on his decision, although he slightly faltered when Steve laughed and poked him in the ribs, which earned him a swat from a wooden spatula on his ass. They spent the evening this way, chattering and bantering, laughing with each other until they collapsed on the couch in the living-room, giggling so hard that they were almost crying. Bucky had smeared the whipped cream of their dessert all over his chin when he had choked on his spoon and just as he was about to stand up and head for the bathroom to clean up a little, Steve's warm hand on his wrist held him back. Next thing he knew, his boyfriend was kissing his cheeks and his chin, gently licking the cream away until their mouths met, both tasting the sweetness on Steve's lips at the same time.

Slowly, their bodies shifted until the blond man was lying underneath Bucky, his long fingers threading through black hair, neck tensing as he came up for a kiss, which quickly grew more heated, passionate. From then on, sensations overwhelmed them both. The silk of Bucky's strands of hair between Steve's fingers, the thick wool of Steve's sweater under Bucky's fingertips. The soft rustling of clothes as they undressed each other, the coolness of the air hitting bare chests, the warmth of hands roaming over a broad back, hard muscles clenching at the lightest touch, the unexpected pain of Bucky's nails as they grazed Steve's skin when he carried the blond man to his bedroom, holding him up under his thighs.

Soft and gentle caresses in secret places awoke a fire in Steve's veins and shivers ran down his spine when Bucky touched him, tasted him, teased him, until he was heavy on his tongue, too heavy, too close... And Bucky's amazing fingers were everywhere: trailing flames down his back, flicking at his nipples, wrapping around him, until suddenly they were _in_ him, opening him with care and tenderness.

They shared few words but their eyes never left each other, and sighs and moans were the only audible sounds, until Steve whispered, breathless:

"How do you want me?"

"However you want... But I need to see you."

Steve felt clumsy as he writhed under Bucky's body, lost in pleasure as his lover rocked his hips against him, delirious as fireworks exploded behind his eyelids. Shifting yet again, Steve watched with hooded eyes as Bucky joined him in ecstasy, his hand covering Steve's one on his hot flesh, and they collapsed on the bed, golden and raven black hair tangled on the pillowcase.

In the midst of this blissful aftermath, Steve felt Bucky's hand rest on his stomach then travel up to his collarbones, tracing absent patterns on his flushed skin. It didn't take Steve more than a few seconds to react and draw his boyfriend closer to him, trapping his hands between their bodies as he held Bucky against him.

They stayed like that for a while, silent and content, relishing into this moment that seemed even more intimate now: desire and lust weren't driving them, not anymore, only the wish to remain as close to each other as possible. Eventually though, Bucky fidgeted against Steve, trying to break free from his gentle grasp.

"Not that I don't like this..." he whispered, kissing the first inch of skin he could reach (Steve's right shoulder, pillowing his head), "but I kinda need to remove the condom."

Grumbling his dissatisfaction, Steve let him go nonetheless, watching as Bucky walked to the bathroom, gloriously naked, showing his gorgeous body without the tiniest hint of shame. As he waited for him, the blond male rolled over, spreading his long limbs on the bed and stretching like a cat; when he rested his cheek on the pillow, head turned in the direction of the door so that he would see Bucky come back, Steve's eyes noticed a framed picture on the nightstand. He reached out, fingers brushing against the delicate frame and its curled patterns, just enough to turn it at a better angle and allow him to discern it more clearly.

The picture reminded him of the one in Bucky's study downstairs, except that it didn't seem to have been taken at the hospital: the young man - God, a boy, he didn't look older than twenty at most - was seated by a Christmas tree and held a baby in his arms. Alexei was looking up at his father with wide, shining eyes, toothless mouth open in a delighted smile. Steve felt a delicious wave of emotion warm him up from the inside the more he kept looking at the picture, but at the same time, it left his stomach twisting in regret.

"Are you okay?" Bucky asked as he came back, slipping in bed next to Steve and grabbing the blanket to cover them both now that the heat and fever had dimmed down.

"Yeah," the blond man whispered against Bucky's lips, "just looking at the picture. You both look so happy... It's a beautiful one."

"But?"

"Uh?" Steve asked, tilting his head to the side. "Why?"

"You look... I don't know, melancholic? Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, sorry... It's just... I've always wanted kids, you know? Seeing baby pictures always kind of makes me emotional."

Bucky caressed Steve's hair comfortingly, a soft smile gracing his features. The teacher sighed in contentment and rolled around, right into his boyfriend's embrace, and he pressed his cold feet against Bucky's bare claves, earning himself a yelp.

"Steve!" the other male whined, trying to retrieve his legs from his lover's freezing toes. "Fuck, don't do that!"

"Sorry," Steve said, even though they both knew he didn't mean it at all. "Hey, I was wondering... How old are you on this picture?"

"It was Alexei's first Christmas," Bucky explained, "so I was... Well, eighteen, almost nineteen."

"You were so young..."

"Yeah."

Bucky looked at Steve, then at the picture and back at his lover, a little hesitant, before he murmured:

"You... You never asked... about Alexei's mother."

A little taken aback at the sudden switch in topics, Steve remained silent for a few seconds, before he gathered his thoughts and admitted:

"I have wondered. What happened to her, I mean. But I didn't want to assume anything nor push you and pressure you into telling me if you weren't comfortable with the subject, so I never asked."

Bucky stared at him wordlessly for a long time, puzzlement visible in his eyes, which cleared as he smiled and pecked Steve's mouth.

"You are an incredible human being, you know that?" he asked. "Thank you... But it's not like it's a painful topic for me or something like that, you know? I just don't go around telling people if they have no business in my life... Which, you do. So, I thought that maybe I could... tell you? If you want me to?"

Steve nodded, taking his boyfriend's hand in his own and staring at him, his whole attention set on Bucky.

"When I was seventeen," the young man started, "I went to Russia as an exchange student, I was supposed to spend five months in Saint Petersburg and then come back to the States and finish my last year of high school but... Well, I did finish it, just not in America."

"You met a girl and couldn't leave her?" Steve suggested when Bucky grew silent, only to have his boyfriend laugh a little.

"Not quite," he replied with a smile. "You know, being the exchange student _and_ American, I was really popular and everyone and their moms had the hots for me. Don't laugh, Steve, that's true!"

The blond stifled his laughter and kissed Bucky's pout away.

"I wasn't making fun of you," he explained. "Just... I can imagine why they were all over you. I don't know if you have noticed but you are kind of hot."

Bucky grumbled something that definitely didn't sound like he disagreed, then he cleared his throat and resumed his story.

"So. One day, I was invited to this party, big house, lots of people - and lots of alcohol too. You know how it is, you get in the mood, you drink, you don't really pay attention to the quantity since you're having such a good time..."

Steve didn't interrupt Bucky but honestly, he couldn't picture the scene that easily: not only had he never seen the other man drink anything else than water, juice, coffee and tea, in short, nothing alcoholised at all, which meant that imagining Bucky getting drunk seemed beyond his capacity, but he had also never been to such a party himself, not when he was young. His teenage years had not been kind to Steve, whom his poor health and his medication didn't allow to drink or, for that matter, stay up all night, partying and dancing.

"There was that girl, Anya," Bucky added, "she was a little older than me I think, maybe eighteen or nineteen already. She was beautiful and we really got along as friends, she liked me and honestly, I can't say that I didn't. We never... We never considered dating though, we weren't looking for that in each other. I didn't like her that way and she didn't either, you know? But yeah, we were drunk and it happened, we slept together."

The blond male nodded. He couldn't say that he was surprised, with the way Bucky's story was going.

"It was stupid," the young man added before Steve could say anything, as if he was afraid to be judged for his behaviour if he didn't go through the whole story as soon as possible. "We were so drunk, I don't remember much of that night, just enough to know, when she told me that she was pregnant, that I was the father. It was risky, we had sex and didn't use a condom and... I'm not sure either of us gave our consent, not properly at least. I mean, in the morning we... We didn't regret it and we were more than okay with the situation, but still. Not my best moment."

Bucky chuckled at himself. _Not his best moment_ , what an understatement. He couldn't consider that night as a mistake though, not when life had given him Alexei.

"We didn't date after that, not even when Anya told me that she was pregnant. God, she was so desperate..."

He remembered her, beautiful Anya, crying on his couch, holding his hand in hers like it was her last buoy, the last mean to keep her afloat, as if she would drown if she ever let go.

"She wasn't ready to be a mother," Bucky explained, "but in her eyes, the abortion wasn't even an option. She told me that she wanted to have her baby but then, she intended to put the child up for adoption. I didn't want Alexei to... I... You know, he wasn't even born yet but I already felt like I couldn't let anything happen to him. I couldn't run the risk to have him adopted by a family that wouldn't... be good enough."

"What did you do?" Steve whispered, his grip on Bucky's hand almost painful as he waited for more.

"Anya gave birth to him, like she wanted to," he answered, using his free hand to caress his boyfriend's knuckles and try to ease his grasp. "But she never... held him, or tried to breastfeed him, she didn't even told me what she thought of his first name. I think she was afraid to grow attached to Alexei. I took him home with me. In Russia, I mean. I had told my parents about our situation but they refused to be part of Alexei's life. I think they'd have preferred the abortion... I was too young, they said. Even now that I'm back in the States, they never tried to see us and get involved. Their loss."

Bucky heaved a sigh, long and deep, one that told Steve that his parents turning him - them - down had affected him more than he let on. His boyfriend wasn't done, though, so the blond male listened to him instead of trying (and failing, probably) to comfort him.

"I graduated high school in Russia," Bucky told him with a tiny smile, "and never left until a few months ago, when Alexei told me that he wanted to know his other country, and we moved back here. We had some hard times, in Saint Petersburg. I accepted a lot of shitty jobs to get by, tried to make a living out of my piano skills... You know about the Bolshoi, right? I also taught kids, a bit later. And now, here I am."

"I'm so glad you are," Steve mumbled and lifted his hand, catching on Bucky's hair as he cupped the back of his head to draw him into a gentle kiss. "What about Alexei's mother though, Anya?"

"I never heard of her again," Bucky sighed. "During the first few years, I sent her emails, pictures of Alexei at his birthdays, that kind of things. I only got a reply once, where she asked me to stop. So, I did. I don't blame her for... being afraid, I guess. And that's it."

Bucky didn't say anything else, simply wrapped Steve's arms around his own body as he slowly slotted himself against his boyfriend, who welcomed him with eagerness.

"Thank you, for telling me," the teacher whispered in his ear.

"You're welcome," Bucky purred as he closed his eyes and let himself rest between Steve's muscular arms. "You understand, it's not that I don't want to talk about Alexei's birth, just... I don't open up about it if I think people will be assholes to me or him, just because of the circumstances."

"I get it," Steve assured him, nodding against his left shoulder. "But they can go fuck themselves."

"My, my, my!" Bucky guffawed, trying to turn his head to look at Steve, only managing to catch sight of his perfect jaw. "It's the first time I hear you swear..."

A muffled groan, vibrating against his shoulder, answered him.

"Don't laugh at me," Steve pleaded.

"I'm not!" Bucky assured him vehemently, turning around. "I just love discovering new things about you..."

If Steve blushed at that (and Bucky was sure that he did), the young man couldn't see the rosy colour spread across his boyfriend's cheeks that he kept hidden against Bucky's arm. He smiled, patting the blond hair until his fingers slowed down and simply slid through the silky strands, massaging Steve's scalp.

Bucky felt a too rare peace settle in himself as his boyfriend's breathing deepened, telling him that Steve was slowly falling asleep, somnolent and totally relaxed against him. The young man gave in to his own drowsiness, catching sight of the picture on his nightstand as he slowly let his eyelids fall shut.

Right then, with this blond angel resting in his arms, Bucky had a sudden epiphany, a thought so fleeting that it almost felt like a dream: Steve would perfectly fit in a family picture, by his side and with Alexei between them, his smaller hands in their own.

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading so far, I hope you still enjoy this story ;) Don't forget to drop a comment, I would love to know what you think about it !


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the amazing support you've been showing to this story, all the comments, kudos and bookmarks make my day. Here comes the tenth chapter, I believe there will be eight more to end the fic. I hope you keep on enjoying this story ;) As always, English mistakes in Alexei's lines are meant to be there and the translations are in the end notes!
> 
> Oh, and just so you know, I'll be leaving tomorrow morning for a short trip in France, I apologise if my replies to your comments are a little late ;)

  


  


Bucky didn't remember the last time he had woken up with someone in bed next to him. Even the mere thought, simply considering this as a possibility, flirted with ridiculousness. But... But when he slowly opened his eyes that morning and felt the heat of the still asleep body warming up his back, he realised that this was real. Steve lay naked beside him, long lashes kissing his cheekbones, every single one of his features relaxed and peaceful.

He could get used to this, he thought as he reached out with an unsteady hand to brush his fingers over Steve's jaw. He would gladly get used to Steve being the first sight to welcome him every morning and the last one before he went to sleep, every night.

It scared him, in a way, to realise how much power Steve held over him. For many years, Alexei had been everything he'd had and now... He wouldn't hesitate to make room for Steve, no - after all, he already had - but he still felt slightly intimidated at the thought of having so easily fallen for this man. He didn't regret it, of course not, and seeing Steve's peaceful silhouette under the sheets only comforted this feeling. It felt right, dating Steve. Like Bucky belonged in those arms, was just right where he needed to be.

... He also needed to be at the dance studio in less than one hour. Nooooo... He wanted to go back to sleep, cuddle with Steve some more and just forget the outside world for a day. The teacher didn't have to work on Tuesdays so why couldn't they just spend hours lying in bed together and enjoy each other's presence, uh? _Adult responsibilities_ , his brain supplied.

Bucky whined lowly in his throat but loudly enough to then smack a hand over his mouth, remembering that he wasn't alone in his bed and ran the risk of waking... Well, had woken Steve up. His breath was taken away by the novelty of watching his boyfriend stir and slowly awake. A mesmerising novelty, he thought as he stared, taking in the slow roll of Steve's eyes under his eyelids, the rise of his chest as his breathing changed, the way the sheets creased under his body as he rolled over, drowsy and searching for Bucky's warm body.

"... ckee?" Steve mumbled against his ribs.

"Yeah, that's me," Bucky smiled, ruffling the blond hair. "I'm sorry I woke you... I gotta go to work though."

Steve made a low sound in his throat, something halfway through acknowledgement and protest. Not quite awake yet, he leaned away to lie on his back and set his eyes on the ceiling, before he took in the rest of the bedroom, looking a little lost.

For a short moment, fear threatened to choke Bucky as he prayed that Steve remembered what had happened the previous night and that he didn't regret it, his apprehension only easing away when the confusion in the blue eyes softened and turned into mischievous warmth.

"Too early," Steve declared as he dived back under the blanket, only to rest his head on Bucky's stomach.

He squirmed, the sensitive skin of his lower abdomen tickled by his boyfriend's hair, but he quitted fidgeting after a while, instead allowing himself to relish into this moment of calm intimacy. He would have to break it sooner or later, rather sooner since he didn't really want to be scolded by Maria for arriving in late (again), so for now he chose to enjoy it, enjoy the brush of Steve's hair over his skin, the weight of his left arm that he had carelessly thrown across Bucky's waist.

Now, the only missing element to Bucky's whole and undeniable happiness was his son's awareness of their relation.

  


  


Bucky picked up his son in front of the school gates at six o'clock, a little less than ten minutes after the kids had come back from their trip to Washington DC; some teachers were still there, whose names he didn't know with certainty, and were making sure that every child had a parent to come back home with. Alexei all but ran toward Bucky once he had said goodbye to Matthew and his parents, thanking them again for having him over the previous night (he had raised his son so well, he was so proud!) and immediately started to tell him about their visit to the museum.

"American history is sooooo interesting!" he exclaimed as he buckled up his seatbelt once inside the car, "I didn't know there were so much presidents ! Dad, dad, did you know one of them had your name? James Buchanan, I swear!"

Bucky groaned at that: his son had probably been the only person in the States to know his full name and to not immediately make the connexion with the president, and he would have liked to keep it that way. Too late, now. He just hoped that Alexei still didn't know that James Buchanan had most likely been gay, or he'd never hear the end of it.

"And did you know that John Adams named his dog Satan? That's so cool!"

His father nodded, smiling to himself at Alexei's enthusiasm. Of all the changes between going to school in the States and in Russia, history class had to be the biggest one but also the one that his son loved the most. His insatiable curiosity about the history of the United States of America sometimes turned him into an overexcited student, filled with questions that he blurted out without really meaning to. Ask him about the Tsar Nicholas II and the February Revolution from 1917 and Alexei would start talking and talking without ever stopping to take a breath but ask him to name all fifty states of America and he would look at you with wide, confused eyes. Of course they didn't teach the same topics in both countries and when they did, well, each one still had its own version of the facts.

Bucky had experienced it himself during his last year of school, which he had entirely spent in Russia: Clint, in New York, had not received the same knowledge of the Cold War as he did, but a much more Americanised version... Comparing the two was always funny.

When Bucky stopped the car in their driveway, he didn't immediately get out but stared at his son, who had already jumped out to bounce towards the door. Alexei was in such a bright mood, maybe that made it a good time as any to tell him about Steve... Yes, he decided. He couldn't wait any longer, not only because Christmas was just around the corner but also because he didn't want to hide their relation to his son anymore. Honesty had always been important to them and even though Bucky had had his reasons not to say anything at first, now that both his and Steve's intentions were crystal clear, he wanted - needed - to tell Alexei.

Even though he had made his decision and wouldn't go back on his word, Bucky's nervousness rose as he plodded toward the front door, keys dangling from his hand and clicking together with every step he took. He pushed the door open and Alexei walked in, barely avoiding to step on Zima's feet and tail as the dog had been waiting for them, right in front of the entrance.

"Зима, внимание!" the child exclaimed, slipping back in Russian as he stepped aside, just in time.

Zima whined, tail wagging behind him as he plopped down in a bow, front legs extended and staring at Alexei with what seemed to be joy and excitation shining in his eyes.

"Oooh, you want to play, don't you?" the kid asked, crouching down. "Okay, come on!"

"Alexei!" Bucky hurried to shout to his son as he took off running after their dog, "Be careful not to..."

"... knock anything down, I know, папа!" Alexei yelled back from one of the other rooms.

Yeah, that. The plant stand last Sunday had been enough, really. Bucky shed his coat and hung it in the closet before he entered the kitchen to get their dinner ready. He would talk to Alexei while the vegetables baked, he decided, so he'd have just the right amount of time to mentally prepare himself, think of how to reveal the big deal and try to convince himself that his son wouldn't react badly to the news - he'd keep his fingers crossed.

What could go wrong, uh? Alexei liked Steve, he chastised himself while he opened the fridge to retrieve two eggplants, which he started to cut in slices. Steve had always been good to Alexei, dating or not, so he didn't have to expect changes on his boyfriend's part, at least not negative ones. If anything, Bucky was almost certain that Steve would be even nicer, not to bribe his son but because he truly liked the child. After all, the teacher had said that he'd always wanted kids, right? So even if Alexei wasn't his, he still got a shot at... parenthood? Yeah, no, too early to tell. Maybe it wouldn't go well between them and...

Bucky nearly cut off his own thumb as he roughly jammed the knife into the eggplant. No, no, no ! Everything would be fine, Steve would play nice (when didn't he?) and Alexei wouldn't change his behaviour either, right? What was there to dislike in Steve? Okay, maybe he wasn't objective but still. So far, Steve's biggest flaw was that he glued his cold feet to Bucky's legs at night - and it had only happened once, so...

The young man dropped the sliced eggplants into a casserole with a drizzle of olive oil and let them to bake, reminding himself to add the parmesan later on. For now, he had a son to talk to.

He found Alexei in the hallway, near his study, sitting on the floor and petting Zima (who looked very, very happy about that) and he turned around when he heard his father's footsteps.

"We didn't break anything," he declared with pride as soon as Bucky plopped down next to him, leaning his back against the nearest wall.

"Good," his father answered with a tight smile, already feeling more nervous than two seconds ago. "Uh, hey, can I talk to you? I have something important to tell you."

"Sure," Alexei nodded, immediately serious and even a little concerned. "What's wrong?"

"No, no, nothing's wrong, don't worry," Bucky quickly reassured him, "I just need to talk to you about... Well, someone. And that person is really important to me, so... Okay, here we go, I guess: I met someone, солнышко, and we are dating. And... and I'd really like to introduce you two properly, if you're okay with that."

"Oh," Alexei said quietly.

Bucky's heart stopped right there and then. _Oh_. He couldn't tell what kind of _oh_ that particular _oh_ was. A relieved _oh_ ? An angry _oh_ ? A shocked _oh_ or a oh-my-god-dad-is-dating-someone-what-do-I-do _oh_ ?

"Oh?" he repeated as a cold sweat made shivers run down his spine. "What do you mean, _oh_?"

" _Oh_ , that's what you want to talk?" Alexei suggested with a shrug, before he corrected, "Talk about?"

"You... you don't look that surprised to hear that I met someone," Bucky pointed out with a frown.

Alexei shook his head, briefly adverting his gaze so that he wouldn't have to look at his father in the eyes.

"I knew," he whispered.

He... What? But... Bucky hadn't said a thing! Steve neither! How... He couldn't have spotted them together, they had been careful and hadn't done anything that could awake suspicion the rare times Steve and he had seen each other while in Alexei's close vicinity.

"How did you know?" Bucky eventually asked.

"I know you, папа," his son answered with a smile. "I notice stuff. Uh, can I ask you a question or two?"

"Of course, солнышко."

Alexei hesitated, again looking away for a second, gathering his courage. Asking his questions would make everything real, he would truly realise that his father had found someone, hopefully someone good enough for him, and there would be no turning back. He would know and wouldn't be able to pretend he didn't. If he met whoever his father was dating, maybe his fear to dislike them would become real, but maybe it wouldn't. What had Mister Rogers said? That his father wouldn't even think about introducing him to a bad person? That he should give them a chance?

"Are you..." he started, feeling a little awkward, "Are you with a woman or a man?"

"A man," Bucky replied, noticing his son's sudden relief in the way his shoulders became less tense. "Is it... a good thing?"

Alexei nodded but he didn't explain why. To be honest, he didn't really know how he would even explain this to his father... But he was much more comfortable with the fact that his father's lover was a man: he had never known his mother, hadn't ever seen a picture of her and he didn't... He didn't know how to have a mom. How would he even deal with a woman in his father's life, one that would maybe ask to be called _mom_ ?

Bucky, unaware of his son's trail of thoughts, cleared his throat and added, as calmly as he could:

"Actually, you know him. It's..."

"Really?!" Alexei interrupted his father, suddenly perking up.

The child immediately started thinking of his dad's male friends that he knew, ruling out the names as soon as they came in his mind: Clint (gross, he was practically his uncle, not to mention married already!), Thor (nah, he was going out with Jane, the pretty dancer from the studio) or his brother Loki (nope, he was scary when he laughed) or maybe... Their doctor, Bruce Banner? No, not his father's type. Then who could possibly...

"It's Steve, Alexei," Bucky finally admitted before he could chicken out, watching his son's expression closely.

He could almost see the gears turn into the boy's head: Steve... Steve as in...

"Mister Rogers?" the child gasped. "Really? Mister Rogers?"

Bucky slowly nodded and his son stared at him for a few long seconds, before a huge smile split his face in two as he started laughing.

"Папа, it's amazing!" he exclaimed, throwing himself into his father's arms to hug him. "I'm so glad it's him, he's... But I talked about it with him and he didn't say..."

"I asked him not to," Bucky explained, not giving in to his happiness at Alexei's reaction yet, as he hoped that his son wouldn't get mad at Steve. "I wanted to tell you myself and we needed to take our time, to be sure of what we wanted together... Plus, you're his student. Even though he's also my boyfriend, on school grounds he remains your English teacher and nothing else."

Alexei nodded eagerly and finally, Bucky let his astonishment and his relief show:

"So you're... okay with all of that? With Steve?"

"Of course! He is so nice... I just didn't think it would be him," the boy explained, not mentioning the fact that the whole school believed that the teacher was still dating Mister Rumlow, and chose to add instead, "Extra points because he's hot."

"Alexei!" Bucky chocked out, scandalised.

"What?" the boy asked, turning his damn innocent eyes towards his father. "Even I can see that..."

Okay, seriously, Bucky couldn't possibly deny that his boyfriend was hot because hey, he was and the young man should definitely not think about Steve's gorgeous body right now or else, he'd end up with a little problem.

"Don't say that," he eventually uttered, still a bit surprised. "That's not all there is to him."

"Okay, sorry," Alexei amended, although he still looked kind of proud of himself for his father's reaction. "But honestly, папа, I'm happy it's Mister Rogers. Steve. I trust him to make you happy too."

Bucky couldn't thank him enough, not with words. All he could do was wrap his arms around his son to squeeze him into a tight, tight hug, one that he hoped would express everything he couldn't bring himself to say, his joy, his relief and his pride. Of course, it didn't mean that Steve and Alexei would become best buddies in a blink but knowing that his son wouldn't hate his boyfriend at first sight was a good start.

When they broke apart, Bucky did _not_ feel any wetness at the corners of his eyes, now that would be ridiculous. And yet, relief hit him hard when Alexei brought the topic back on a certain lightness:

"Hey, does that mean that I can try Steve's bike if I ask?"

Bucky actually laughed at that, having had the same thought himself: that bike was a pure beauty and the young man, who'd had his fair share of rides when he was a teen thanks to Clint and his own bike, would love to ride behind Steve and feel the engine purr between his legs. Given that some safety precautions were taken, he wouldn't deny the same pleasure to his son, who definitely had good tastes - what a connoisseur.

"There are conditions," Bucky answered, "A helmet and Steve's agreement, at least."

"Of course!" Alexei beamed at him with a grin, "Thank you!"

A short hug later, the boy scrunched up his nose and frowned, which suddenly reminded Bucky of his eggplants that were supposed to bake in the kitchen. Well, judging from the smell, they were probably more than baked, now. Oops.

  


  


(Bucky cried on the phone when Steve called him the next day and told him that Alexei had came up to him after class, once everyone else had left, to thank him for making his father happy.)

  


  


If ten years ago, someone had told Steve that one day he would stress over Christmas Eve because he was making dinner for his boyfriend and his son, he would have laughed until his ribs broke. Yet, right now, on the phone with Sam while his potatoes were baking, he was venting out his apprehension at the fact that in a few hours at most, Bucky would arrive with Alexei.

"Steve, relax," Sam was trying to soothe him, the smile audible in his voice even from the other end of the line. "Everything's gonna be okay, you don't have to be so nervous. All you'll manage to do if you keep on like this is screw up your dinner."

"Thanks, that's really reassuring," the teacher groaned. "But what if they don't like my cooking?"

"Come on, even our failed _soufflés_ from last time were pretty good. You'll do fine. You do know that's not a test, right? Just your boyfriend and his son looking to spend Christmas Eve with you because they like you, not because they want to judge you."

Of course, Sam was right. By the time Bucky and Alexei arrived, greeted by the sweet scent of orange-stuffed duck, Steve felt a bit more confident already: everything was ready, he had placed the gifts under the Christmas tree a bit earlier in the afternoon, he had followed his ma's recipe for the main course so really, it had to work. Sarah Rogers' recipes had never let him (or anyone else, for that matter) down and it wouldn't start now.

"Hi, Mister... Steve!" Alexei exclaimed when he opened the door, smiling up at him from under the scarf that Bucky had probably wrapped one too many times around his neck.

"Hello Alexei," the blond male answered, "Come in, come in... Hi, Buck."

During a few seconds, both males looked at each other rather awkwardly, Steve not knowing if his boyfriend would want to be kissed in front of his kid and Bucky wondering the exact same thing but from the teacher-student point of view. Eventually, they both glanced at Alexei from the corner of their eye and saw the boy flush as he quickly said:

"I'm not watching. Go ahead and kiss all you want, I'll be right over there."

He then fled in the general direction of Steve's living-room, leaving the adults grinning as they took the time to greet each other properly.

"Hey, gorgeous," Bucky whispered as he took hold of Steve's shirt collar, pulling him into a kiss.

The teacher went with it eagerly enough, teasing his boyfriend as he nipped at his lower lip, giggling against Bucky's mouth when he saw a predatory expression settle on his face. The other man groaned before he stepped forward and pushed Steve's back against the wall, pressing against his body to hold him still while he kissed him as he pleased: hard, with need and passion bubbling in his veins, burning under his skin.

Bucky only stepped back once he thought they had kissed long enough to get Steve's lips swollen and red from his stubble; seeing his boyfriend breathless and having to lean against the wall to support himself was a fantastic bonus.

"Let's..." Steve tried and coughed, before he cleared his throat and started again, "Let's not do that in front of Alexei."

"Right," Bucky agreed with a nod and a mischievous glimmer in his eyes that couldn't hide his current high level of self-satisfaction. "Hey, where can I put my gifts?"

The young man showed two huge bags he had brought with him and that Steve hadn't noticed until then, certainly because Bucky had drawn his attention to wholly other and more interesting matters.

"Under the Christmas tree, it is in the living-room, next to the couch," Steve replied as he went to pick up one of the bags. "That's heavy ! How many gifts did you buy, exactly?"

"Probably too many," Bucky admitted, contrite. "But it's Alexei's first Christmas in America, I couldn't _not_ make it special, you know? Besides, there are some for you too."

"You... Bucky, you didn't have to..."

"Hush," the other interrupted him with a finger on his rosy lips. "It's nothing much, really. Plus, I bet you bought gifts for Alexei and me too, so..."

Steve chuckled, interlacing his fingers with Bucky's so that he could drag him to the living-room.

"Okay, true," he answered with a smile. "I wasn't sure what to get for Alexei though, but then I remembered what you said, about him reading more in English. Since he liked the Harry Potter series, I thought he would like another fantasy novel, so I bought him The Hobbit. Uh, he hasn't read it already, I hope?"

Shit, he should have asked Bucky before buying the book... But he had wanted it to be a surprise and plus, he had acquired the novel even before his boyfriend confirmed that he would come over for Christmas so... Too late, now.

"Steve, Steve..." Bucky called him softly. "Stop thinking. He hasn't read it yet, it's perfect. _You_ are perfect. What did I ever do to deserve you?"

"That's my line," the teacher replied with a wink and a peck on the young man's cheek.

Bucky couldn't help but blush a little at that, now standing in the living-room where Alexei was looking at them, fighting a smile that clearly meant _I'm happy for you_. Bucky's chest was filled with bliss and joy from being reunited with both his son and his lover, which he would not have believed to be possible before... But miracles happened, right? As if reading his thoughts, Steve squeezed his hand and flashed him a bright smile, like the sun in the middle of the day, and... And... He was in love with that man. He had, truly, never felt that way before, considering the nonexistence of his history with dating, but Steve...

Steve made him feel good with the world and himself, made him feel safe. Steve was everything he could ever have wished for and better yet, Bucky was everything Steve wanted right now. As long as that fact stayed true, Bucky knew that nothing would manage to burst his little bubble of happiness.

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian translations:
> 
> Зима, внимание !/Zima, vnimanye ! - Zima, careful !
> 
> папа/papa - Dad, daddy
> 
> солнышко/solnyshko - Sun or sunshine, which is a Russian term of endearment frequently used and especially for kids.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone ! Sorry for the delayed chapter, my exams are coming up next week and I'm still working on the first part of my thesis, which is due next Tuesday, which means I didn't get time to write before now. But it's done now and I really hope you will like this chapter :)

  


  


After Christmas came the New Year and in between, Bucky's sisters paid their brother a surprise visit, to Alexei's delight: the boy didn't know his aunts too well, having seen them a grand total of four times, this one making it the fifth. The two women probably were the most surprised ones though, as they arrived while Steve was there, helping Bucky in the kitchen.

"Bucky!" Rebecca squeaked, her hand over her heart and faking offense, "You never told us you were banging a Greek statue!"

"And that," the young man answered with a roll of his eyes while Steve choked on his spit and blushed to the roots of his hair, "is why I chose not to say anything."

In spite of this embarrassing (for the two men) and hilarious (for Alexei and his aunts) start, Steve quickly took a liking to Cassie and Rebecca, who then proceeded to tell him every single awkward story of Bucky's childhood. The blond man couldn't help but laugh, both at his boyfriend's indignant face and at the way his sisters narrated all of that, probably with more dramatics than strictly needed, until Bucky threatened to throw the three of them out of his house if they didn't let him be.

Which they decided to actually do, at least partially: Cassie and Steve retreated to the living-room where Alexei was reading The Hobbit. The sight filled Steve's heart with warmth and contentment, as he had somewhat doubted that the child would really appreciate his gift, but seeing him so entranced by his reading appeased his apprehension. Meanwhile, Rebecca remained with her brother in the kitchen, under the pretext of helping him around.

"So," she whispered with a grin, "he seems nice."

"He is," Bucky confirmed with a shy smile, "and he's probably the best guy I've ever met."

"How long has this been going on for?"

"We... started dating one month ago or so but... He caught my attention earlier. He's Alexei's English teacher, we met during a parents-teacher meeting at the beginning of the school year."

The one he almost arrived late to. Now that he thought about that, it would have been terrible if Steve had already left the classroom when he'd knocked on the door, for it would mean that maybe the circumstances of their first meeting would have been less thrilling.

"Do you love him?" Rebecca asked with a knowing smirk that meant she didn't really need to question him over that topic.

Bucky groaned and gently pushed her aside with his hip so that he could access the pantry behind her and grab the cinnamon - apple pie for dessert tonight, following Steve's ma special recipe. Needless to say that he didn't want to ruin it. Steve had helped, of course, given that he knew how to proceed and make the pie a success, until Rebecca and Cassie had stormed in and forced him to banish Steve and one of his sisters to the living-room.

Rebecca elbowed him in the ribs when she decided that he was taking too long to answer and he mumbled:

"You know I do, why do you even ask?"

"I wanted to be sure," she said with a shrug. "What about him?"

"I..." Bucky hesitated. "I don't know... I mean, not for sure. We haven't told each other anything, we haven't been together for long yet, but..."

God, he hoped Steve was in love with him, as much as he was himself. Based on their shared intimacy, the soft eyes his lover turned to him and the many discussions they'd had about wanting more than a quick fuck and just trying to be together for the fun of it, Bucky could tell that there was something there. He knew that Steve cared about him, about Alexei, and that meant more than he could possibly say with words. But love? He wouldn't dare let his own feelings speak for Steve's heart.

Of course, he was dying to know the true nature of the teacher's sentiments and to tell him as well but why rush it? They had time. Also, Bucky didn't know how to say those words: he had never needed to - Alexei non included. But to his lover? How did he go about doing that? Should he say it over coffee in the morning, after a night of breathtaking passion? Just... How? When? People usually freaked out because they wondered about the right way to ask their partner in marriage and here he was, already panicking at the thought of failing to declare his love for Steve.

"Hey, Becca..." he called softly after a quick glance toward the living-room to make sure that the other man wasn't on his way back to the kitchen. "How do you tell someone you love them?"

"Bucky..." she whispered in defeat, rolling her eyes. "Don't stress yourself over it. Don't even think about it. When the time is right, you'll know and telling Steve how you feel will come to you naturally."

"Right," her brother scoffed, "always this bullshit of right moment, letting time do, blah blah blah. But what if there's no perfect moment?"

"Nothing is perfect," Rebecca said wisely, "so you have to make it the best you can."

This time, it was Bucky's turn to roll his eyes. His sister didn't help much... Maybe he should ask Clint: knowing his and Natasha's relationship and their respective personalities, the day one or the other had confessed their feelings sure must have been epic.

"Hey, uh, I was wondering..." Rebecca started hesitantly, which never meant anything good, "Do you plan on telling mom and dad that you have found someone?"

"No," Bucky answered drily, more so than he intended to.

He couldn't help it: every single time his parents were as much as mentioned in a conversation, the anger and despair of a seventeen-year-old boy about to become a father and let down by his own parents came back to the surface.

"When they finally get their heads out of their asses and decide to meet Alexei and consider him their grandson and not my _Russian problem_ , maybe," he snarled, putting the cup he'd used for the flour in the sink with much more aggressiveness than needed.

Rebecca looked contrite, and placed a placating hand on her brother's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Bucky," she whispered as she gently rubbed his arm. "I wish things were different between the three of you."

"Yeah, well," the man grumbled, "I managed for eleven years without my parents to support me, I don't need them."

Bucky turned his back on his sister, hoping that she would take the hint and drop this subject that, even though a twinge of hurt still remained in his heart after all these years, mostly made anger and pure, heated rage simmer in his veins. Even without actually looking at his sister, he could tell that she was fidgeting, trying to find a way out of this heavy discussion, and eventually, it was Steve who saved the day.

A wild blond teacher suddenly appeared in the kitchen, peaking his head inside with a cheerful smile that had Bucky's insides instantly melting - a nice and welcomed feeling after his previous outburst.

"I come in peace," his lover assured them, blissfully unaware of Bucky's and his sister's conversation, or maybe too polite to point out the tension in the room. "A famished hobbit sends me, he demands to know when the pie will be ready."

It took Bucky a few seconds to understand that Steve was referring to Alexei but once he did, he laughed and bent down to glance at the oven in which the apple pie was slowly baking, turning a beautiful golden colour.

"What do you think?" he asked Steve, motioning him to come closer while Rebecca left the kitchen.

"I'd say ten more minutes, then we can take it out and let it cool down," the blond male answered, crouching down to get to Bucky's level. "Are you okay?"

Oh, so he _had_ noticed the tension, then.

"Yeah," Bucky breathed out, sagging against Steve with sudden tiredness. "Just family stuff. Becca talked about my parents and I, uh... Kinda snapped. But I'm fine, don't worry."

Steve hummed in agreement, tinted with an trace of worry all the same, and Bucky reached out to squeeze his hand.

"Really, I'm okay," he insisted, looking up in Steve's so, so blue eyes. "Hey, have I already told you today that you are drop dead gorgeous?"

"Bucky," Steve scoffed, "I'm wearing sweatpants and an old t-shirt with holes and flour on it. And I met your sisters like this."

"So?" Bucky smiled and shrugged. "In your defence, we decided today would be our lazy day and no matter the outfit, you always look handsome."

Steve looked away, probably to hide his blushing cheeks, and Bucky mentally patted himself on the back: his lover didn't seem to know what to do whenever he complimented him, maybe because his sickly and frail self, still hiding somewhere inside this muscular body, couldn't believe that those words now described him. However, Bucky didn't think he would ever tire of telling Steve how good-looking and kind he was, especially not if he got this flustered reaction.

"Come on," the blond told him as he grabbed his fingers, "Let's go back to the living-room, the pie will survive a few more minutes without us."

"Okay," Bucky agreed, before he turned his wrist and caught the teacher's hand, holding him back for a second. "Steve, wait."

The young man turned around, brows arching up.

"Buck?"

"I..." he started and stopped, hesitant and not even sure of what he wanted to say, as his conversation with Rebecca replayed in his mind. "Uh, I... You... You know you're important to me, right?"

"Is it conceited of me to say yes?" Steve asked with a gentle smile.

"No, not at all. I just... wanted you to know that. That you're important to me and that you... make me happy."

Steve's eyes turned so soft and intense as he looked at Bucky that the young man thought that he was going to cry right there and then, until the teacher slowly engulfed him in a tight hug, hands rising to hold Bucky's neck and slide through his hair.

"You are important to me too, Buck," Steve whispered in his ear, "more than you probably realise."

Okay, okay, that... needed to stop. Bucky wasn't used to receive such tender words or looks and if Steve kept doing it, he would get a armful of weeping pianist and Bucky didn't really wanted that embarrassment. Not now at least, not with his sisters and his son to witness this moment. Thus, Bucky slowly - and reluctantly - stepped back, keeping his hands on Steve's waist.

"Enough emotions for today," he joked - but not really. "But I guess now we can take out the pie."

And they would have done just that, if Steve hadn't leaned down right at the same time as he, bumping their foreheads together in a painful collision.

"Ouch!"

  


  


According to Alexei, the winter break was over way too quickly and truth to be told, Bucky wanted to agree with his son: he had loved this period of holiday spent with his sisters, his kid and Steve. With family, he would dare say. Quiet and tranquillity had filled these two last weeks and Bucky wished they could stay like this, in their bubble far from the world. However, Alexei had resumed school that Monday and so had Steve. That meant the end of their lazy days, of their culinary experiments and the time they could spend together without having to get up for work - and staying in bed with Steve or sprawled on his boyfriend's couch was quickly starting to become his favourite activities.

It had been a great month, one that Bucky couldn't wait to relive again on the next school break. His boys may only have been back to school for one day but the young man missed them already: even though Alexei came back home every evening, unlike Steve, his father regretted that they couldn't enjoy some more free time together. The teacher's absence weighed down on his heart as well: no more breakfast in bed or showers where Bucky's naughty hands travelled in places they shouldn't (or should, depending on one's point of view.)

Bucky had last seen Steve two days prior, when he had given his son a ride before going to the dance studio, and he had noticed the teacher, watching over the kids as they arrived. They hadn't found any time to see each other after that, both busy with papers to grade for Steve and rehearsals for Bucky, as the dancers of his company had started to prepare the show they would give in a few months. Overexcited at the thought of seeing Bucky playing the piano on a stage, the teacher had immediately booked his tickets, one for his friend Sam whom Bucky would finally get to meet, one for Alexei and one for himself.

"You will be amazing, I'm sure of it!" the blond male had exclaimed.

"Calm down, Stevie... I'll just play in the back or maybe on one side of the scene while the dancers do their thing, it's not like you will see me a lot..."

Of course, that didn't agree with Steve's idea of his boyfriend giving a show and the teacher had thrown himself into a long tirade on why exactly Bucky should get a special spot, as the dedicated pianist of the company. The musician had almost suggested, as a joke, that Steve presented a petition to Maria, before he'd shut his mouth: his boyfriend could - and would - actually do it. Bucky could bet that Steve, because he was _that_ excited, would talk about the show again anyway, probably as soon as they would see each other, which would hopefully happen that very same day.

Bucky was currently in his car, parked across the street in front of the school where some parents were already waiting for their children, just like he was himself, fully ready to surprise the men of his life: Steve and Alexei were done at the same time today and he was free himself, so he had thought that maybe they could gather, all three of them, and go for a hot cocoa in a café. Cliché, right? Well, Bucky had never been given the opportunity to experience true romance in his life before so if he wanted to get a freaking hot cocoa with his boyfriend and his son, he would damn well have it.

The school day would end soon, maybe in fifteen or twenty minutes at most and Bucky was already vibrating with excitation at the thought of spending a late afternoon with Steve and his son, who got along just fine, even without the boundaries of a teacher and his young student.

Sudden movement on his right caught his eye and Bucky turned his head, eyes immediately lightening up as he saw Steve pass the school gates, although his hurried, nervous strides quickly worried him: what was wrong? Why was he outside already, when he was supposed to give his lesson for at least ten more minutes?

The blond man didn't seem to notice Bucky's car at all because he didn't make the slightest move to cross the street, no; instead, he headed straight for a man, standing in the middle of the small crowd that had gathered in front of the building, and...

Bucky's heart stopped.

It stopped but didn't start back and how could it, when Steve was hugging this handsome black man like his life depended on it? One hand on the guy's neck, the other across his shoulders, and Steve himself was engulfed into an embrace that Bucky could tell was tight as hell, even from his spot.

He didn't understand that scene happening under his eyes. Or rather, he didn't want to. Who was this guy? Why was Steve... _His_ Steve... Was this man some kid's father... too? Did Steve play with his students' parents, did he... No. Fuck, that was _Steve_ he was talking about, the man who baked apple pie with him and liked to play with his hair.

And it was so damn hard to believe when right now, under his eyes, his boyfriend was whispering what he assumed to be sweet words of endearment into some random guy's ear. Well, clearly not that random, he thought bitterly, crushed under the weight of that sight. But maybe he was just a friend? Steve wouldn't hug his secret lover in front of so many people, right? Now was not the right time but of course, Alexei's words came back to him: Steve had never hidden his homosexuality at school, even though he didn't display it either. Sure, there was that time he'd been caught kissing that science teacher but... Wait. What if that guy _was_ the science teacher?

Dim pain shooting through his hands made him realise that he was holding onto the wheel with a steely grip. Bucky stared, strangely detached, as his knuckles turned white, his mind far away from there and focused on his boyfriend. He couldn't believe it. Steve wasn't cheating on him, he couldn't. He wouldn't do that to Bucky, right? Not when he loved him... Or, Bucky assumed he did. After all, Steve hadn't said a thing - but neither had he and yet, he was deeply, definitely in love with the teacher.

He could butt in, he realised: he could get out of his car and casually walk up to Steve and his... Whatever that guy was to him. But they were walking away fast and the bell soon announced the end of the day, so the students came pooling out of the gates. Bucky didn't notice it immediately, still focused on Steve's silhouette slowly disappearing as he walked down the street and crushed Bucky's heart under his feet with every step.

There had to be another explanation to that scene he just witnessed, he thought, desperate to find something, anything that would explain Steve's behaviour. He was certainly overreacting, because Steve was the first man - or person, really - he had ever wanted for more than a wild night of passion and better yet, Steve was the first one to look at him and see him for something else than his good looks. Lust might shine in his blue eyes at times, but care and affection for Bucky always shone brighter.

Slowly, Bucky's hand found its way inside his coat pocket and took out his phone. He knew that the rational way to go about this was to talk about it with Steve instead of jumping to conclusions, so he did just that. Kind of.

_Hey babe_ , he typed slowly, _are you free this evening? I miss you :'(_

As he sent the message, Bucky nearly laughed at himself: even through a message, Steve would be able to tell that something was off. He never sent any message without shortening this or that word and here, he had done the exact opposite with his full and proper question instead of something like _u free tonight_ ?

A unexpected noise startled him and the young man felt his heart skip another beat when Alexei suddenly appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and nearly ripped the car door off its hinges, opening it as quickly as he could to rush inside and protect himself from the cold of January. Any other day, Bucky would have teased him about not bearing America's winters when he had endured Moscow's, but not today.

"Hey dad," Alexei greeted him from the backseat, taking a look at him before his cheerful expression faded a little. "Uh, are you okay?"

Shit. Of course his son would notice that he didn't look too happy right now. But what could he say? That he was scared Steve had found someone better than him? No, he couldn't, not only because Alexei should never have to carry his father's problems on his shoulders but also because he didn't know if Steve cheating on him could be true - it probably wasn't, anyway.

But Steve hadn't replied to his text yet. That might mean nothing. But... _What if, what if, what if..._

"I'm fine," the young man eventually told his son, shooting him a reassuring smile through the rear-view mirror. "Just the first rehearsals taking their toll on me... It's been a while since I was part of a show. I'm just a little tired."

He saw his boy nod hesitantly, apparently not too sure that he should accept that explanation, so Bucky asked before he could speak up:

"Hey, how about we go to that place, uh, _L'Elysée_ , and we get us some hot cocoa?"

Fuck. _L'Elysée_. He had suggested the first name that had come to his mind but that was the café Steve always talked about, the one they had gone to together a few times... He didn't really feel like going someplace that would remind him of his boyfriend, not right now.

Speaking of which, his phone suddenly vibrated in his hand and Bucky immediately unlocked it to read Steve's text.

_Sorry, can't 2night. Smth came up, call u later._

That had the effect of a cold shower on Bucky. Steve never texted like this, just like Bucky usually didn't send full messages; that meant that Steve was either in a hurry to answer (but then his text would have come sooner) or bothered and upset by Bucky's message... Because he was with that other man and didn't want to be interrupted? Lost in his heartbreak and sudden panic, Bucky almost didn't hear his son's answer.

"... rather not," Alexei was saying. "I have lots of homework to do."

"Sorry, what?" his father asked, shaking his head. "Was that a no?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that meant no, if it's okay."

"No hot cocoa?"

"No hot cocoa," Alexei confirmed, although his brows creased as if he was worried by his father's behaviour.

"Okay, no hot cocoa," Bucky repeated as he started the car, hiding his overwhelming relief at Alexei turning down the warm beverage and _L'Elysée_.

Good. That cocoa would have tasted bitter anyway.

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a lot for reading ! Don't forget to leave some feedback, it always makes me happy :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi ! You are not dreaming, the new chapter is here already ! I don't know how fast I'll be able to update after this though, as my exams start this Tuesday and end on the 4th of June. I will try to work on the story in the meantime but don't expect anything before June ;)  
> Thanks a lot for your amazing support on this story, your comments mean the world to me !

  


  


Bucky was having a terrible, terrible week. And whose fault was that? None other than Steve Rogers'. Although, all things considered, he was partly responsible for the last two awful days and it hurt to admit it. But after that day when Bucky had caught Steve in someone else's arms and failed to talk to his boyfriend about that painful scene, the young man wasn't sure that he still wanted to broach the topic.

He felt ridiculous for even thinking like that but he couldn't help it and he wondered... What if Steve told him that he had read the signs correctly, that this man he had hugged so fiercely meant... more than Bucky did? The mere thought terrified him. So no, he didn't want to talk about it, at all, even though he was dying to know the truth, to find out whether the teacher had replaced him or had already been dating that man before he got his fun with Bucky. It made him sick, thinking that way about Steve, who had never once given him reason to believe that he could be a fraud. However, doubt had clasped his mind in its tight grip and it wouldn't let go, no matter how hard Bucky tried to reason himself.

The young man had known so little love in his life before that he couldn't help but think that if it hadn't worked out with the other people he had slept with, it probably wouldn't work out with the teacher either, even though Steve meant so much more than a mere fuck. A week ago, he firmly believed they would manage together but now... Crazy, how the smallest of things could throw him off balance and make his head swarm with questions.

He hated it but now he... He was avoiding Steve. He feared that he wouldn't be able to act like his usual self around him, too consumed by anger, sadness and other conflicted feelings that he didn't know how to express. Steve hadn't called him back that fateful day, even though he had told him he would, and Bucky could only imagine that he had spent the night with his friend-slash-maybe-more. He had called yesterday though, apologising for his missed call, and he sounded exhausted. But Steve hadn't explained what he had done the previous day, only digging his own grave a little deeper. Why would the teacher keep his actions hidden from him if they weren't reprehensible?

Scared of the answer, Bucky was now avoiding the blond man: on the phone, Steve had said that he wanted to see him yesterday night and the pianist... Well. He'd turned him down, telling him that he had a rehearsal for the dance show that evening - he didn't. He also didn't want to see Steve right now, not when he felt this close to break down every time he reminded himself of his boyfriend into another man's embrace.

He also had a problem for tonight. Last week, they had planned to see each other for dinner this very day, all three of them: Steve was supposed to drive both Alexei and himself straight to his place after school and then, they would share a meal - like a family, Bucky had thought in delight, a bright spark in his eyes... What a disillusion.

He didn't know what to do. The last months with Steve, as friends first then lovers, had filled his heart with a joy he had never realised he needed, badly so. He had always had Alexei, of course, but these two brought him and made him feel different kinds of love: he loved his son unconditionally and always would but with Steve, it wasn't the same. The teacher understood him where a child wouldn't, he had shaken him up, pushed open the high doors he had hidden his heart behind and now, Steve held it, bare and hopeful, in his hands. Steve only had to tighten his grip to break him.

And he had already cracked him.

  


  


Even though unaware of Bucky's thoughts, Steve felt the same way: he was having a terrible, terrible week, due to several reasons. He didn't really want to talk about the first one: it would mean acknowledging the situation and eventually, accepting it, which he couldn't bring himself to do. How could he accept the fact that Sam's grandma, the woman he had considered his own grandmother all these years, was gone? Two days prior, he had spent the night with Sam and his family, gathered in their grief. He had needed Bucky so bad, to be held in his arms and feel like the world hadn't just collapsed.

But Bucky... He seemed distant. And that was the second reason for Steve's exhausting week. He knew he shouldn't think that his boyfriend was mad at him just because he hadn't sounded particularly excited to hear him on the phone the previous day and he shouldn't blame him for his tiredness: Bucky's rehearsals and the upcoming show put a lot of pressure on his shoulders. Steve could understand that and Bucky didn't need him to worry about something silly like the teacher wondering whether he had upset his lover.

He looked forward to this evening, really. Although he had planned to tell Bucky about the passing of Sam's grandma, he hoped the mood would remain somewhat merry: he didn't want to ruin his boyfriend's and Alexei's night and honestly, he needed to drown himself into some happy vibes or he was pretty sure that he would break down and cry like a baby onto Bucky's shoulder.

Just a few more minutes, he thought as he glanced at the clock above the blackboard in the classroom, stepping through the mess of backpacks and folders on the floor while his students hurried to finish their test before the bell rang. Just a few more minutes and then, he would wait for Alexei and they would both go back together to the Barnes' place to spend a relaxed evening.

When the class finally ended, a sigh of relief crossed Steve's lips at the thought that now, hopefully, nothing but peace awaited him. His evening would start out well: he had planned a surprise for Alexei, one he knew the young boy would love, if the shiny eyes he had turned to him when he had asked for it was anything to go by.

Heading for the back of the classroom, Steve approached the iron shelves where his students placed their books, bags and other possessions they had no immediate use of, and he grabbed his motorbike helmet, as well as the smaller one next to it. He couldn't wait to see Alexei's face once he'd realise they were going home riding his bike.

It only took a few minutes before the teacher heard footsteps and his lips curled up in an excited smile. When Alexei reached the open door though, Steve's smile cracked and quickly died as he saw that the boy wasn't alone but closely followed by Natasha. That wasn't part of the plan. What... Oh God, no!

"M... Mrs Barton?" Steve stammered in worry that edged on panic. "Is... What's wrong, did something happen to Bucky, did..."

"Nothing like that, Mister Rogers," she interrupted him before he could run to the closest hospital and ask if they had admitted one named James Barnes. "James simply asked me to pick up Alexei at the same time as my son."

"But..." Steve objected, relieved that nothing bad had happened to his boyfriend but still not completely at ease. "We had agreed that I would drive him back..."

"Alexei told me, yes," she answered. "That's why I wanted to give you a heads-up, so that you wouldn't wait for nothing."

Confused, Steve stared at her with arched brows. What? Did Bucky forget about their plans? Or had something come up, forcing him to change the original plan at the last minute and leaving him unable to warn the teacher?

"Alexei," Natasha sais as she turned toward the boy, "could please wait outside for a moment?"

The boy threw her a funny look but nodded and walked out; as soon as he was out of earshot, the redhead stared at Steve critically and the blond male felt his heart tighten in his chest.

"Something _did_ happen, right?" he asked, realising that perhaps it was why she didn't want Alexei to hear them. "Is he hurt? Is it bad?"

"He wasn't in an accident," she reassured him again, although her tone had turned cold. "Listen, I don't know what happened between the two of you and it's none of my business but you clearly wounded him and..."

"What?" Steve exclaimed, lost. "I'm sorry but I'm not sure to understand... What are you talking about?"

Natasha remained quiet for a few seconds, her piercing eyes assessing him, until the confused but discreet frown that appeared on her face told Steve that she believed his genuine surprise.

"You... didn't fight?" she asked hesitantly.

"No, of course not! What makes you think..."

Now he was panicking. What had happened? What had he done? The last time he had seen Bucky, nothing had seemed off: they had laughed together and kissed each other goodbye, parting with a silly smile on their lips and in their heart, there had only been the regret that they would go a few days without seeing each other.

"Listen," Natasha said again, upsetting the troubled thoughts he was drowning in, "I only know what he told me. He asked me to drive Alexei back because he wasn't... I'm sorry, he said he didn't want to see you. He said something happened so I thought..."

Steve stopped listening, only able to focus on the _he didn't want to see you_. Was it why Bucky had sounded so weird on the phone the previous day? But why? Steve didn't understand what he had done to deserve the cold shoulder, to the point that his boyfriend would rather send his neighbour to pick up his son at school than him. What had he done to ruin their relation so fast, when it all seemed to go so smoothly?

"I..." he whispered, voice breaking. "We never... We never fought, I don't... I don't know what happened to make him feel..."

In front of him, Natasha heaved a deep sigh.

"You seem like a nice guy, Rogers," she told him with sympathy. "I don't know what happened but... I do know that James sometimes lacks some clarity. I think you should talk to him before the situation... You know, gets worse."

Steve watched her leave his classroom with dread coiling in the pit of his stomach. Natasha probably meant well with these last words but it didn't really make him feel better. Quite the opposite, actually: unaware of what he had done, he had no idea of how to fix this sudden mess.

Steve looked down, tried to hold back the tears of frustration and sadness that he wanted to shed, and he realised that he was still clasping the helmets in his hands. The smaller one he had picked especially for Alexei, knowing that Bucky would never agree with his son riding a bike without the adequate gear. Now though, he didn't know if the boy would ever get the opportunity of trying it on.

Closing his eyes, the teacher breathed as slowly and deeply as he could and decided that Natasha was right. He needed to talk to his boyfriend, to know what had gone wrong and what they could do, both of them, to make it right. It must have been a misunderstanding anyway, nothing more, and Steve would clear it up before any unfortunate consequence could hurt either of them.

The smaller helmet secured under his arm, Steve strode down the hallway and towards the parking lot. Everything would be fine, he told himself and tried to believe those words, he didn't think he had done anything that bad, so probably Bucky wouldn't stay mad at him for long... Right ?

  


  


"Dad!" Alexei exclaimed with tears making his wide eyes seem brighter already. "Come on, say yes! Пожалуйста..."

"Alexei... I said no," Bucky spoke as firmly as he could, in spite of the painful headache he could feel hammering inside his skull.

"But why?! I just..."

The doorbell ringing interrupted the conversation father and son were currently having and that would probably soon turn into an argument, and Alexei whipped around to run away, climbing the stairs to hide in his bedroom in a way that reminded Bucky of his own teenage mood swings. He had been worse, though: slamming doors had been a common occurrence when he was fifteen and he could only feel grateful that Alexei hadn't come to that point yet.

Sighing at the thought that they weren't done, Bucky chose to join Zima in the hallway to open the front door and see who the hell was bothering him now.

"S... Steve," he stammered in surprise once he saw the teacher waiting in front of the entrance.

Shit. He... He should have expected his visit. He _had_ , after all, sent Natasha as a shield between the both of them - a bad decision, most likely, but he knew he wouldn't have been able to watch Steve in the eye to cancel their plans. He just... didn't want to talk to him right now, especially not when he and Alexei were in the middle of an argument. Bucky didn't want to see his boyfriend, not while hideous thoughts about Steve's love life kept crossing his mind... He didn't want to hurt himself nor his lover by having a conversation in which he was not ready to be involved right now, at least not in a good mindset, but seeing the blond man so sad and worried as he stood on the threshold of his house, looking like a kicked puppy, hurt more than he could have imagined.

"Hi, Buck," Steve whispered, sounding almost desperate as his blue eyes met his boyfriend's. "Can we... talk?"

"Steve..." the other started hesitantly. "It's... Listen, it really isn't a good time, I'm... having words with Alexei and I don't..."

"Why?" Steve immediately voiced his concern. "Is there something wrong?"

For a second, the teacher feared that it had something to do with him, that Alexei didn't support his father's relationship with him any longer, but... Ridiculous. Alexei _liked_ him. But then again, Bucky was supposed to as well and yet, he hadn't even wanted to talk nor see him today.

His worry increased when the young father sighed, letting out a heavy and exhausted sound that made Steve fear the worst.

"Come in," Bucky simply said, opening the door wider to allow the teacher inside.

Steve didn't even take off his coat. He could feel, even without knowing nor understanding the reason why, that he wasn't exactly welcome and that Bucky would try to keep their discussion as short as possible. Did he... want to break up? But why?

He almost blurted out the words, the desperate question, but Bucky was faster than him.

"Alexei's been invited to the party for Matthew's birthday," he declared, aware that he was pushing off the part where he would have to explain his behaviour to Steve - fuck, no: _Steve_ had to explain himself, Bucky was not the one flirting with other men behind his boyfriend's back.

"And... ?" Steve pressed on with curiosity.

"I don't want him to go," Bucky added, trying not to look too closely at Steve's neck for hickeys - no need to hurt himself more.

"Why?" Steve asked again. "I thought Alexei needed to make more friends in America, a party is the perfect way to..."

"You don't understand," Bucky groaned, momentarily forgetting his irritation toward Steve as he worried about his son. "Matthew's parents won't be there and his brother's in charge of watching the kids but... Steve, he's almost nineteen! Without their parents home, what if he brings friends of his and they sneak booze into the place and..."

Right then, Steve grasped what the real problem was: alcohol. Bucky knew and understood how quickly having one too many at a party could cloud one's judgement and make them do stupid things that they wouldn't even do otherwise, sometimes with life changing consequences. He was projecting his own experience and fears onto his son and even though Steve perfectly understood the reason for this, he couldn't let Bucky hinder Alexei's social life.

"Bucky, relax," the teacher said gently and tried to appease his lover's concern. "The kids are, what? Eleven, twelve at most. I'm sure if Matthew's parents leave their older son in charge, it's because they know they can trust him."

"You don't know that," Bucky objected with a frown, crossing his arms against his chest.

"Come on, Buck," Steve added, pushing his luck as he rubbed his boyfriend's shoulder. "Alexei will be fine, even if the brother brought alcohol, he would know better than to drink that... You should let him go to that party, it might do him some good to socialise and meet other people. Let him go and live a little, it's..."

"You have no say in this, Steve," Bucky sharply seethed as he took a step back and broke free of the teacher's gentle grip. "He's not your kid!"

Steve suddenly recoiled, as if slapped, and his face crumpled even as Bucky realised what he had said and how much it must hurt the teacher, who had once confessed having always wanted children. He was awful. He knew it and the worst was that he didn't manage to feel remorseful for that terrible outburst, not when he still doubted Steve's loyalty, not when he felt half-heartbroken himself.

And yet, the blond male pulled a brave face and tried to smile, hiding the pain behind a half-hearted joke as he said, voice clearly brittle in spite of all his efforts:

"Come on, Bucky... He is young. Even if Alexei did drink a little, he wouldn't jump the first person he saw."

Bucky saw red.

"Right," he snapped, furious, "because _my son_ ain't like that! Not everyone fucking likes kissing other men all the time and being all slutty with them even when they already have a boyfriend!"

The silence that followed his shouts was deafening, heavy with tension and thick like a wall fallen between the two men. Eventually, ever so slowly, Steve whispered in shock:

"What?"

"I saw you!" Bucky exclaimed, suddenly starting to pace up and down the hall and unable to stop the string of sentences that were tumbling out of his mouth, as if he wouldn't dare say them anymore if he tried to hold his tongue now - but also not fully understanding the weight of his words. "You were hugging and walking with that man the other day, when everything I wanted was to see you! I wanted... I wanted... Fuck, everything I wanted was to spend some time with you and you just... left with this man and... Who was he, Steve? Who? That Rumlow dude everybody saw you kiss? Someone else? Was it good, that night you spent with him?"

Bucky only stopped yelling when he realised that Steve was staring at him with cold disappointment and anger in his eyes, so frightening and turning an icy blue. The teacher didn't utter a single word but somehow, his silence alone was so overwhelming, conveying everything he wasn't saying aloud, that sudden guilt rose in Bucky's throat: guilt for his words, his accusation about a situation of which he only had his own side of the story. He had meant to ask for Steve's explanation, he really had, but his anger had taken the best of him and now...

Now, the blond man's glare hardened in a way that chilled Bucky down to the deepest parts of his heart. Then, right before he turned around and stormed out of the house, hurt and wounded in his trust in Bucky, Steve spat:

"Fuck you, James."

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian translations:
> 
> Пожалуйста/Pozhaluysta - Please
> 
> I guess I should apologise for this chapter (and I do, believe me, I'm breaking my own heart here) but bear with me, the sun will shine after the storm ! See you next time ! :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone ! Thank you so much for your feedback on the previous chapter and for wishing me luck on my finals ! I had the hardest exam this morning but I aced it so I thought I would finish writing and publish this chapter today. Plus, you deserve to know what happens next, seeing what I left you with on the previous one ^^ I hope you'll enjoy it ! As usual, Russian translations are in the end notes ;)

  


When he climbed down the stairs and walked into the kitchen that morning, struggling with his elbow stuck in the left sleeve of his hoodie, Alexei wasn't surprised to see his father, looking exhausted and sitting at the table with a hot cup of coffee fuming in front of him. Sad at the sight, yes, but not surprised. His папа hadn't slept much, he was sure of it...

"Hi, dad," he whispered awkwardly, standing in the doorway and uncertain of how to act around his heartbroken father.

Bucky lifted his head with a start, for he had not heard his son come in, and he stood up, forcing a smile.

"Hey, buddy. What do you want for breakfast? Toasts, cereal?"

"Cereal," Alexei answered automatically. "Don't worry, I got this."

His father nodded and sat back heavily, mulling over thoughts that Alexei knew were about Steve. Well, this morning wouldn't be fun - not that the previous evening had been any better: first, there had been his argument with his dad over Matthew's birthday party and then, Steve's and his father's own fight.

He had heard, of course, even though he had certainly missed some of the things both men had said: they had yelled and Alexei, although he understood and spoke English way better than six months prior, had not caught everything. But Steve's last words had resounded in the silence of the house and those, the boy had fully grasped. _Fuck you, James_.

In the five months Alexei had known Steve, he had never heard him swear before and while as a teacher, he had to be a model for his students, he could still have let it slip at home; yet, Alexei couldn't say he had ever heard those words coming from the blond male's mouth before, hence the shock. But worst was the use of his father's first name. He had noticed that Steve called him Bucky just like every single one of his dad's friends did, although with more tender inflections in his voice, and hearing his teacher call him James with nothing but coldness in his usually warm tone felt... wrong.

And this, this whole mess? Alexei was the only one to blame for it. If he hadn't argued with his dad, if Steve hadn't arrived in the middle of their yelling, maybe... Maybe his father and his teacher would still...

The bowl of cereal hit the kitchen table with too loud a noise as Alexei almost dropped it from his shaky hands.

"Sorry," he whispered, mortified.

"Hey, солнышко, are you alright?" his father asked gently, reaching out with his right hand to take his son's left one and hold him like a buoy - or maybe Alexei was the one in need of support to overcome his guilt, he didn't know.

"Yes," he answered too quickly, "I'm just tired. I'm glad it's Friday."

But his father saw right through his lie - half-lie only, as the thought of the upcoming weekend truly made him feel somewhat happier already - and tilted his head to the side with that expectant expression on his face that Alexei knew better than ignoring. If his dad was unable to resist his own puppy eyes when he wanted something, Alexei couldn't resist his father's _I-know-you're-lying-and-I'm-disappointed-in-you-son_ face either.

"I'm sorry..." he could only murmur, already feeling tears gather in his green eyes, and a sob escaped him.

His father suddenly looked horrified, having clearly not expected the waterfalls.

"B... But..." he stammered as he stood up to come around the table and kneel in front of his son. "Alexei... What's wrong? Talk to me, солнышко..."

"I'm sorry, dad!" he repeated and really started to cry, sliding off his chair to collapse into his father's arms, which immediately closed around him. "I'm sorry you and S... Steve broke up bec... because of me!"

"What?" his папа asked, trying to step back a little to see his son's red eyes. "Alexei, why are you saying this? None of this is your fault, Steve and I..."

"It is!" the boy exclaimed in distress and hiccupped, his words coming out muffled and messed up. "If I didn't ask for the party, you don't... you wouldn't have fought! I heard you, and Steve... He thought I should g... go and, and it made you mad, and then you..."

"No, no, no," the young father hurried to interrupt before his son could blame himself further. "Listen to me, солнышко: Steve and I, what happened? This isn't your fault. I was already mad at him before he even came over."

"But... Why?" Alexei asked, stunned.

Ever since he'd learned the two men were dating, he hadn't been able to see them in any other way than a model couple. The both of them were so in love with each other, radiating happiness, always so affectionate and bordering on inappropriate PDA at times, that one would have easily believed that they had been dating for years, if not forever. Hearing that Steve, who had to be the nicest person ever, had given his father a reason to be mad? _That_ was almost impossible to understand.

"That's between Steve and me," Bucky eventually answered, his eyes suddenly brighter than seconds before.

Alexei hid his face into his father's shirt, unable to keep staring at him and witness the tears he had noticed in his dad's eyes roll down his cheeks. He sounded in pain just by the evocation of the reason why he had been angry at Steve... Alexei wouldn't insist nor ask again, since his father had made it clear that it was a part of his intimacy with his lover that he wouldn't share... But the boy wondered if his father had not told him the exact reason for his anger out of fear that Alexei would hate Steve.

After a few seconds, Bucky coughed softly and cleared his throat but Alexei still heard the wet sounds his father made as he started talking:

"I want you to understand, солнышко: you are not responsible for any of what happened between Steve and me. Yes, we talked about Matthew's birthday party and we disagreed, but that doesn't mean you have to blame yourself. I think that... no matter what we might have talked about yesterday, I would still have lashed out at him."

There was a moment of silence, until he added:

"And I'm sorry you had to be there and hear us. Involving you in this mess was the last thing I wanted."

Alexei nodded and let himself be held for a while, safe inside his father's embrace, until he calmed down enough. His dad's arms were strong around him and he felt as if nothing could ever hurt him as long as he stayed there, hidden and hugged. He wished his own arms, so much smaller and less muscular, could do the same. If only he could protect his father from pain and heartbreak...

"Папа?"

"Да..."

"Did you... really break up?" Alexei asked with hesitation.

Bucky sighed and closed his eyes. He wanted to say no, that Steve and he were still together although not on good terms right now but... Honestly, he had no idea where they stood and he told as much to his son.

"I don't know. Yesterday, we argued and yelled, but... We didn't say we were over. So I... I guess we'll see how it goes. We'll have to talk, eventually. Problem is, I'm not too sure I even want to see him at the moment."

"But you love him..." Alexei whispered, half-asking a question and half-asking for reassurance.

"I do," Bucky confirmed with a sad smile. "Doesn't mean things can't go wrong."

His son nodded, slowly understanding that even though he wasn't to blame for the current situation between his father and his (ex?) boyfriend, there was also nothing he could do to make it better. He couldn't interfere in their business that way, Steve and his dad had to be the ones willing to talk to each other and get back together. He was powerless.

  


  


Once both of their faces had lost some of their redness and their eyes were less swollen than before, Bucky dropped his son at school before going to work at the studio. He stared as his boy walked away and met with Matthew in front of the school gates so that they could go in together, which reminded him of the birthday party that he didn't want his son to go to...

He was blinded by his own fears, he knew that. Deep down, he also knew that Steve was right, young kids like his son and his friends wouldn't drink alcohol even if someone else bought it, or if they tried, they wouldn't need a big amount of it to feel tipsy and sleepy already. And if they fell asleep early... Well, no more alcohol, right?

Bucky groaned. Not only did he know that Steve, although not a parent, had been more clairvoyant than him on this, but he also knew that arguing because of different opinions was stupid as hell. Fuck, _he_ was stupid, at least on this.

He blamed himself and felt guilty for snapping at Steve, yelling that he had no right upon Alexei, and he regretted the way he had accused his boyfriend of cheating. Not that he would have kept quiet on the topic but he was aware that talking about it instead of saying that Steve was a slut would have been... more delicate and respectful, to say the least.

Steve had neither denied nor confirmed that he was cheating on him, though. What did it mean? Did he feel guilty for cheating, angry for having been caught? And his reaction... If he thought about it, that was the kind of reaction Bucky would have himself, if he was falsely accused of something he didn't do, so... Could it be that Steve hadn't done anything wrong?

No! Bucky knew what he'd seen and Steve hadn't been honest with him, end of the story. Imagining that it was nothing more than a huge misunderstanding would imply terrible consequences and he didn't think he could handle a truth like that.

He managed to convince himself that he was right about this while he drove to the dance studio, feeling like playing the piano was the last thing he wanted to do at the moment, for all he could think about right now was that maybe he had trusted Steve too fast, too soon. And now he just hurt more, as he finally understood his own foolishness for falling so fast and so hard for a man who had ended up making him miserable.

  


  


Alexei both dreaded and awaited this hour of Steve's class. He feared to see his teacher and the poor state he had to be in, if his father's own distress was anything to go by, but he also wanted to make sure that Steve was doing... okay. As in, as okay as he possibly could, considering the circumstances - never once did the thought that maybe Steve was better off without his dad cross his mind. The boy doubted, however, that the young man would tell him anything, both because they were at school and because the teacher certainly thought, like his папа, that this had to stay between them. But he wanted to see Steve anyway: he liked him, both as his teacher and his... possibly father's ex-boyfriend, so the child wanted and needed to know how he was coping with this situation.

His teacher was late though, which was unusual for him, and several other kids were already trying to come up with the best reason for this: maybe Mister Rogers had slipped in the stairs and broke his ankle, maybe he had dropped his coffee on himself and needed to change, maybe he was stuck in the traffic, blah blah blah. Alexei had another theory: what if Steve felt so bad after the fight with his dad that he hadn't felt like going to work that morning?

All whispers died down when someone finally entered the classroom where they had all been waiting for Steve, but the man who walked in and closed the door was Mister Rumlow.

"Hello everyone," their science teacher greeted them. "Because of personal matters, Mister Rogers isn't able to join us today; I'm going to keep an eye on you during this period, I suggest you take an early start on your homework so you have a free weekend. If anyone has questions about the biology chapter we discussed yesterday, you're welcome to ask as well. Questions?"

Mister Rumlow's clear injunctions and sharp eyes only met a stunned silence, which he decided to take as a negative answer.

"Great. Now, get to work, everyone."

Alexei tried. He really did his best to focus on his algebra homework but his mind constantly kept going back to his concern for his father and now, to the reason behind Steve's absence; he only managed to write down two or three answers before the end of the class.

After the bell rang, Alexei told Matthew not to wait for him because he wanted to talk to Mister Rumlow; his friend nodded and flashed him an encouraging smile, then he walked out of the classroom. The child couldn't pretend to ignore what this smile meant: Alexei was almost terrified of their science teacher and Matthew knew it.

Mister Rumlow wasn't mean, only strict, but his piercing gaze, strong shoulders and huge biceps (rumour had it he'd been in the army for a while, and even part of the special forces) inspired a kind of respectful awe, tinged with fear. Many students found his way of raising his brows when dealing with a problem scary. He was a fair teacher though and most importantly, he was also Steve's friend, meaning that Alexei would be able to get some news from him, at least if he accepted to share what he knew.

"Mister Rumlow?" he asked shyly once every other student had walked out of the room. "Can I ask you a question?"

The science teacher set his eyes on him, seemed to stare inside him for a second, then nodded.

"Of course, Alexei. What is it?"

"What happened to Mister Rogers?" the boy immediately blurted out, feeling even more concerned as he awaited the explanations.

Mister Rumlow's gaze softened and he sighed a little as he sat in the chair behind his desk, at the front of the class.

"I'm not supposed to share this sort of information with students," he said, "however, I might make an exception with you. It's not like Steve hadn't told me he's dating your father."

"He did?" Alexei exclaimed in surprise.

"Yeah," the older man snorted as he rolled his eyes, "I know him, I could see he was walking on rainbow clouds, with little hearts in his eyes and all of that. I asked, he answered."

Alexei briefly wondered, considering their history, if maybe the science teacher was sad that Steve had found someone but he didn't have the time to dwell on the thought, for Mister Rumlow spoke up again:

"Steve is at a funeral right now," he explained softly, almost sadly. "His best friend's grandma passed away a few days ago, but I suppose he told your father already. They bury her today, you didn't know that?"

Alexei's eyes widened with shock.

"He... What?" he stammered.

"The funeral," his teacher repeated gently, although a little concerned, "Steve didn't tell you?"

"I... Uh, maybe he told my dad," the child said, "but I didn't know. So... Thank you, Mister Rumlow."

"You're welcome, I guess. Make sure your dad takes good care of him, okay? Sam's grandma was like his own."

Alexei nodded dumbly, not daring to ruin his teacher's hopes by confessing that his father and Steve had fought, and then he fled the classroom, thinking that he had a lot to say to his папа: he was almost a hundred percent sure that Steve hadn't had the time to tell him about the funeral or the death of his friend's grandma. He wasn't looking forward to be the messenger of such events but... His dad had to know.

  


  


When Bucky came back home that evening, late as per usual on a Friday night, he was first surprised, then angry, not to see either Steve's car or his bike parked in front of his house. Had he forgotten the tutoring sessions? Or did he not want to do it anymore, now that they had argued? A tiny voice in his head tried to whisper that it wasn't like Steve to simply stop the sessions without warning them first but then again, cheating wasn't like him either. And yet...

Bucky shook his head and tried to put these painful thoughts at the back of his mind, behind barriers that he wouldn't cross. He needed to think about something else, clear his head and focus on what he was doing: Maria had raised her brows at him today, after several wrong notes that even a beginner wouldn't have made. Worst, she'd even told him to take the weekend off so that he could fix whatever was bothering and distracting him - but how to fix a relationship? He'd never had to before, since he'd never had one either...

With a sigh, Bucky opened his front door and half-heartedly patted Zima's white fur when the dog came to rub himself all over his legs.

"Alexei?" he called loudly.

"Upstairs!" came the yelled answer.

Bucky took off his shoes and his coat, then he made his way to the second floor; Alexei was in his room, sitting behind his desk with what looked like mathematics homework in front of him.

"Hey," he said as he leaned his lower back against the wooden desk, "how was your day?"

"Fine..." his son grumbled with a glare addressed to his homework.

"Want to take a break?" Bucky suggested. "I have to talk to you."

Alexei immediately turned his chair around and asked, somewhat concerned:

"What is it?"

"I kept thinking about your friend's party," his father admitted with a sigh, "and I changed my mind: you can go."

"Really?!"

The pure joy reflected on Alexei's face, in his smile and his eyes, almost made Bucky feel bad for saying no in the first place. Hell, parenting was hard.

"I have a few conditions," he hurried to add, before his son turned so ecstatic he wouldn't hear anything more.

"Okay," the boy eagerly nodded. "What ones?"

" _Which_ ones," Bucky rectified, doing his best to ignore the pain in his chest as this simple correction reminded him of Steve. "Uh, first of all, I'm going to talk with Matthew's parents and his brother. I swear I'm not going to embarrass you. Second, I want you to promise that in case there's alcohol at the party, you won't drink any of it. Not a drop, alright?"

"I promise, папа."

His son sounded so serious that Bucky believed him. He trusted Alexei of course, but his fear was strong and... He didn't know who would join that party. What if someone dared his boy to drink and he did so, just to fit among the Americans, to be seen as more than the foreign kid, the Russian one? At least now, Alexei's promise gave him something to hold onto, a reassurance that his son would think twice before doing anything.

"Great," the young man said with a tiny smile, before he added, "Third, I want you to send me a text from time to time, to tell me you're fine. And if you need me to drive you back home, any time of the night, if there's the smallest problem..."

"I call you," his son interrupted him before he could list every single situation that could come up and ruin the party (Alexei was certain that his father had a lot of those in store.)

"Yeah. You do that," Bucky grumbled. "And that's it."

Seconds later, the young man found himself falling backwards onto his son's bed as Alexei jumped in his arms to hug the hell out of him, thanking him endlessly and hurting his ears with shrill shouts of _you're the best_ (Bucky wouldn't have wanted it any other way.)

Content of their closeness after their fight and the hard day they'd both had, father and son remained hugging for a while longer, until Alexei's stomach started to growl.

"I take it as my cue to find us something to eat," Bucky commented as he tried to remember if he had anything left in the fridge - probably not. "Uh, maybe we should order, it might be easier."

"Pizza!" Alexei immediately suggested, although it sounded more like a made decision already.

"Alright," Bucky agreed anyway. "I think we still have a menu from the last time we ordered at _Mamma mia_ , let me check and you can choose what you want."

"I already know: _alla parmigiana_ , medium."

Bucky nodded, thinking that he might want to go with toppings such as anchovies, artichokes and olives; just as he was about to go downstairs to find the damn menu and get the right number to call, Alexei held him back.

"Dad, wait," he said, before he hesitated a little. "Uh... Steve didn't come to school today."

Bucky stopped on his way back to his son's bedroom, both surprised that Alexei wanted to talk about Steve and struggling to hide his emotions. He wasn't certain to understand the blond male's decision not to go to work: sure, he hadn't wanted to either but he was the heartbroken one, while the other had cheated. He must have known he wouldn't manage to hide it forever, right ? He should have expected some backlash.

However, Alexei's next words ruined his perfect (but painful) theory:

"He was at a funeral."

For a second, Bucky thought that he heard wrong, that he misunderstood, but his son's sad face told him the words he thought he caught had truly been said.

"He... what?" he repeated slowly. "But he didn't... How do you know that?"

"I asked and Mister Rumlow told me he was at the funeral of his friend's grandma. He said he couldn't tell the students but he'd make an exception for me because he knew about you and Steve. Steve told him about you."

And there, Bucky was lost. Steve and that Rumlow guy used to date and Bucky had even accused his lover to still be fucking that man, but why on Earth would the blond tell Rumlow about them if he was boning him at the same time? It didn't make any sense. But that explained Steve's absence all right.

Bucky turned around and went downstairs almost on autopilot, his mind completely elsewhere. A friend's grandma... He remembered several Sundays that Steve had spent in a retirement home, by his best friend's side, to take care of the latter's grandmother. Her name was Ella, if he properly recalled. Was she... Did she... pass away?

The young man muffled a desperate whimper with the back of his hand. Fuck. If Steve and Sam had attended the funeral today, then it had been a few days since she passed and he couldn't help but think... What if it had happened that fateful Tuesday and the man he saw Steve hug and hold onto was no one else than Sam, his best friend? That would explain the short text that day, his lover's exhaustion, his reaction to Bucky's ruthless accusations, everything. Maybe this was but a terrible, awful misunderstanding.

He wasn't sure of anything anymore, except for a few facts: first, Steve must hurt a lot right now. Second, he was desperately, stupidly in love with that man, a man who was grieving and couldn't even find solace in the embrace of his boyfriend.

As he looked for _Mamma mia_ 's menu, Bucky took his phone and pondered whether he should call Steve or just... not react. After all, the teacher hadn't told him (hadn't had the time, his conscience whispered to him) and Bucky's wasn't supposed to know about the funeral. But he did and he cared, so...

Eventually, he settled on texting: none of them would actually have to talk to the other, nor hear his voice, nothing. It would hurt less this way. He closed his eyes as he pressed the button to send an awkward text that he wasn't sure would be welcome.

 _I heard you lost someone. I'm sorry, Steve_.

Steve didn't reply.

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian translations:
> 
> Папа/Papa - Dad, daddy
> 
> Солнышко/Solnyshko - Sun or sunshine, which is a Russian term of endearment frequently used and especially for kids.
> 
> Да/Da - Yes
> 
> And just for your information, a pizza alla parmigiana is a pizza topped with eggplants and parmesan ;)
> 
> I will be done with my exams this Saturday so after that, my chapters updates will go back to a more regular rythm. I'll see you soon, thank you for reading so far !


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone ! I promised to give you this chapter after my last exam so here I am ! Thanks a lot to all of you for your support, seeing all the kudos, bookmarks and subscriptions and knowing you enjoy this story makes me feel ecstatic :) I hope you will like this chapter as well ! ;)

  


Steve's heart broke the moment he got Sam's text telling him that Ella passed that Tuesday, peacefully, for she had been taking her afternoon nap at that time. It broke but apparently, there were enough pieces still holding together to be completely crushed and shattered the following Thursday, under the weight of accusations he could have refuted, but was unable to.

He knew exactly what Bucky was referring to when he said he had seen him in another man's arms: in this moment, both Steve and Sam had been trying to hold it together and keep their heads out of the water when everything around them had simply collapsed.

In the middle of that mess, Bucky had been his only rock, a comforting presence at the back of his mind since he knew that he would soon be allowed to put his head on his lover's shoulder and let himself be held.

But Bucky had seen and Bucky hadn't trusted. So Steve, hurt beyond words, had swallowed down his craving for support and warmth to turn around and leave.

Somehow, Bucky had learned about Ella's death and the funeral - but he didn't know how - and the text he'd sent him had both lifted his spirits and shaken him up even more, because his lover _cared_ but didn't _trust_ and it hurt so, so much...

"Mister Rogers, I can't read the word you wrote on the board," Maggie complained.

Startled by the high-pitched voice, Steve took a step back and realised that he had nearly squashed the chalk between his fingers and the blackboard, making some of the words indiscernible.

"Sorry," he apologised and erased the worst-looking word with his palm, not caring about the white handprints he would probably wind up having all over his ass by the end of the day. "I wrote _epitome_. Now, what do you think Dorian Gray is the epitome of? Mark, instead of texting under your desk, you might want to enlighten us all."

"Uh..." Mark blushed and spluttered. "Dorian Gray is... Uh, could you repeat the question, please?"

"What does Dorian Gray represent the most, according to our analysis of the book?" Steve repeated even as he walked towards Mark's seat, palm extended, and the teenager sadly dropped his phone in his teacher's expecting hand.

"Beauty?" the boy hazarded, looking like he believed he would be struck by thunder for a wrong answer.

"Explain," Steve merely said, which got him raised brows from almost every single one of his students.

The seniors all knew how much their teacher loved literature and how he would light up, speaking about this or that character and what they stood for, what they meant for him as a reader, and he would always try to guide his students to the right answers and to a better understanding of the book; right now however, Mister Rogers didn't look like he had any passion, any motivation in him, not even for the flamboyant Dorian Gray.

Steve was aware that he was currently lacking the fire he usually taught his classes with but he couldn't find the strength to go back to his true self, not right now, not while thoughts kept running in his head: Ella's death and Sam's pain that he was unable to soothe because he shared his suffering and he didn't know the words to make it all better, and then there was Bucky and...

Steve couldn't remember a time he had been happier to hear the bell ring. He watched his students leave the classroom before he did so himself, making sure they had not forgotten anything and had cleaned up their desks. It was a pure coincidence that, as he walked out of the room, he happened to catch sight of a dark-haired boy with green eyes.

"Alexei!" he called through the hallway. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

The child nodded then proceeded to close the distance between them and Steve could tell that the boy was glad to see him, in spite of his obvious surprise at being sort of summoned like this. The blond man, as he wanted some privacy for this conversation, re-entered the classroom and Alexei quickly followed him.

"Hi, St... Mister Rogers," he hurried to interrupt himself before he could say his teacher's first name. "Uh, hi."

"Hello, Alexei. Listen, I wanted to apologise for not showing up last Friday, I know we had a session but I... I was..."

"I know," the kid said bashfully. "You don't have to explain."

"Oh," Steve whispered, realising that since Bucky knew about the funeral, his son probably did too. "Well, thanks, I guess. I wanted to tell you... I don't think I'll make it this Friday either. Don't get me wrong, I will keep tutoring you, unless you want to do it with someone else, considering the circumstances..."

"No!" Alexei exclaimed, before he slapped his hands on his mouth, then said on a lower tone, "Sorry... I just... I still want you as my tutor, you know? It's okay if we don't do it this Friday, just... Stay my tutor, please?"

"Of course," Steve nodded. "I just wanted to make sure you didn't have any problem with it and I'll have to talk about it with your father too... Just not this Friday: I need to get my head back into the game and with everything that happened, it's... hard."

"I understand."

Alexei thought they were done but Steve... Steve looked torn, as if he wanted to say or ask something but didn't know how. So the kid waited and eventually, his teacher enquired on a sad, soft tone:

"How is your father?"

"He's..." Alexei started but trailed off, unsure of how to say it - he wanted to be honest but not hurt Steve in the process. "He's not doing too well. I mean, he hasn't played the piano even once during the weekend and... We both know how important it is for him. Plus, he listens to Nazareth."

Steve guessed that it was one of the many rock bands Bucky loved but he couldn't say he knew them at all.

"And... Is it a bad thing?" he asked.

"Very," the kid answered with wide eyes.

"Oh."

Steve promised himself that he would check it out, just out of curiosity, and when he noticed that Alexei was growing a little fidgety, he realised that the child probably had another lesson to attend.

"You may go," he immediately said with an apologetic smile. "If you're late to your next class, just say I held you back, alright?"

A quick nod later, Alexei fled and Steve sat heavily on top of his desk in the empty classroom. The news about Bucky didn't make him feel any better but somehow, he was glad not to be the only one in pain. He knew it was a horrible thought but he couldn't help it: Bucky had hurt him so much when he actually had nothing to blame himself for, it would have been unfair if Steve had been the only one to suffer from the situation. He would forgive Bucky, eventually, he knew that; he also loved him too much to stand this distance and coldness between them for long.

It wasn't the accusations of cheating that had hit him the hardest though, no, it was the part where Bucky had said that Alexei wasn't his son. The truth of that statement had stung and he knew... He knew that Bucky was mad at that time, which didn't exactly excused him, but he also knew that the young man was right, that he had no right upon the child, but... It still hurt. He wasn't afraid to admit that he loved this kid as much as he loved his father, although in different ways, and once or twice, Bucky had actually... hinted that maybe they could be a family, all three of them. Was it too much, too fast? Did it scare Bucky, the way he was so prompt to integrate Steve in his little family?

The teacher guessed he would never know, at least not until he spoke to the young man... The sooner the better, probably, so they would decide of what would happen between them. But he wasn't looking forward to the pain this conversation would, without a doubt, bring the both of them.

  


  


(When Steve came back home that evening, one of the first thing he did was check out the band Nazareth on his laptop. The first result he got was the song _Love hurts_ and he imagined Bucky, curled up on his couch, staring at his piano with empty eyes. He cried.)

  


  


Honestly, Bucky wasn't just _not doing too well_ : he was wallowing in misery. He was aware that listening to every sad love song he knew (and he knew _a lot_ of them) probably fitted a teenager's mood after his first break-up rather than a grown man's with adult responsibilities and a son. But Steve was... His first. First love and first break-up, which he had no idea how to deal with.

Worst, it might turn out that this fight he'd had with Steve was only the consequence of a misunderstanding and his stupid, _stupid_ , mind that had jumped to conclusions. Well, he wasn't totally certain of that theory but at least, it had the great advantage of not making a cheater out of Steve, which he had not believed himself at first. Actually, he would really be glad if Steve had in fact hugged Sam that day, instead of a secret lover, even though it meant that Bucky had hurt his boyfriend for nothing - and left him on his own when he was mourning a person who had been close to him.

He was so stupid, he thought with a groan that was muffled against the throw pillows of his couch.

"Dude, stop it."

Bucky lifted his head to glare at Clint, whom he had called so that he could share his misery with someone. What were friends for, right?

"Stop what?"

"Everything. Stop groaning and soaking your pillows with spit, stop pitying yourself and stop listening to... What is this anyway?"

Bucky slowly sat upright on his couch, blinking slowly, as if he couldn't believe Clint's words.

"Scorpions," he answered, ignoring the way his best friend rolled his eyes. "And I'm not spitting on my pillows."

"But you _are_ pitying yourself, right?"

"Blaming myself, that's different, thank you very much."

"Well, stop it," Clint repeated with a shrug.

"How can I?" Bucky cried out in distress. "If I'm right and that guy I thought he was with is his best friend, I... Fuck, Clint, I must have hurt him so much!"

"Then, apologise," his friend simply said, as if it was that easy. "Call him, tell him you want to meet up and then, swallow your pride and crawl to his feet."

Well, Bucky wished nothing more than that. But would it be enough? He wasn't sure of it: even if Steve agreed to forgive him for misunderstanding the situation, he had still used words he regretted, both on that topic and the one about his son. Also, he shouldn't forget that Steve's innocence, if he could phrase it that way, wasn't a certitude yet; if his boyfriend really had cheated on him, well... He didn't think he would be able to forgive him, both for the act and for the spiral of self-doubt and questions it had thrown him into: what had he done wrong, why was he not enough, what could he do to be better?

"Alexei's coming back," Clint informed him as sudden movement caught his eyes through the window and he spotted the boy walking up to the door.

"Shit!" Bucky exclaimed as he scrambled to his feet and rushed to stop his stereo system before Klaus Meine could sing another line of _Still loving you_. "Quick, pretend you're laughing with me!"

"What?" Clint asked, bewildered, even as he heard the rattling of the key by the front door. "But why? You were just cryi..."

"I wasn't crying!" Bucky hissed and threw a pillow to his friend's face. "Now help me make my son believe I'm actually fine!"

"But you are clearly no... Hey, Alexei, my man! How are you doing?"

Clint greeted the child way too loudly and with such an obviously forced cheerful expression that Alexei stopped dead in his tracks and stared at his father and his best friend with arched brows.

"Uh... Hi?" the boy said tentatively. "I am interrupting something?"

"What?" Clint feigned surprise. "No, of course not! I was leaving, now that your dad and I have agreed for the barbecue next weekend."

Bucky was about to slap his hand across Clint's mouth to keep him from saying any more bullshit but Alexei reacted first.

"A barbecue? But it's snowing outside..."

"So?" Clint shot back with a shrug. "The barbecue will be almost as hot as your dad, the snow's gonna melt for it instantly."

"Oh my God, Clint, get out!" Bucky groaned and lightly punched his friend on the shoulder, only realising that he was laughing as the sounds left his mouth - and he didn't miss the way Alexei's lips curled up at that.

"Fine, fine, I'm going..." his best friend pouted, before he exclaimed, "Saturday, at noon. Don't be late!"

Bucky rolled his eyes but squeezed Clint's shoulder in hopes to convey his gratitude for the diversion while he walked him to the front door.

"Call your man," his friend reminded him as he walked out, then he grinned and added, "And I'm super serious about the barbecue."

"We'll see," Bucky said with a smile. "And thank you. I mean it, Clint, and not just for this. Thanks for being my friend."

"I know, I'm an amazing best friend. You ain't too bad yourself."

Clint flashed him one last smile before he turned around to go back to his own place and Bucky only closed the front door once he saw his friend disappear inside his house. When he entered the living-room, Alexei was sitting cross-legged on the floor and he had already spread his history notes on the coffee table in front of him.

"How was school?" Bucky asked from the kitchen as he poured orange juice in two glasses.

"I still don't like American mathematics," Alexei answered, "but fine."

"They're the same as Russian maths," Bucky pointed out with a smile as he came back to the living-room, carrying a tray with the glasses and quarters of apple.

Alexei shifted his notes so that his father could place their snack on the table and he took a long gulp of his juice before he said, almost offhandedly:

"I saw Steve, today."

Unlike his teacher, his father didn't hesitate to show that it had perked his interest and he all but blurted out:

"How is he? Did he look tired? Or angry? He was okay with you?"

Of course, Steve had probably been polite because he was _Steve_ and he knew that Alexei had nothing to do with their current situation but still, it didn't hurt to know for sure.

"Yeah. He apologised for not coming last Friday but he said he wants to keep tutoring me, if you agree with it."

This time, Bucky halted. He didn't oppose to it, not exactly, because he wanted the best for Alexei and in this case, the best meant going through Steve, but... While they didn't know exactly where they stood, maybe it was best that the tutoring didn't happen at their place: it would be awkward as hell.

"Okay," Bucky nodded. "But _how is he?_ "

Contrarily to what one ( _Clint_ ) might think, Bucky wasn't pining, not at all; he only wanted to know because he was curious about the way Steve dealt with the current coldness between them. And, he would admit to it, his guilt was involved as well and made him wonder if and how their argument affected the teacher. How did Steve feel right now, cheater or not? Did he feel as bad as Bucky? Worse? Or less, if he _had_ someone else to share his nights with? (A thought that the young man didn't want to consider any longer.)

"He asked the same about you," Alexei confessed.

Oh. So Steve probably felt much like he did himself, sad and wondering what the other was doing, how he was holding up, and - and they were ridiculous. If they were both pining (okay, _fine_ , he was), that meant there was hope left, right ? However, they were also both stubborn as hell and he didn't know who would make the first step toward the other. Bucky had to apologise but Steve had explanations to give him. Now, how should they go from there to a real dialogue ?

Bucky was sucked back into reality by Alexei's next words:

"Steve didn't look too good. He's... sad and he didn't give his lessons like he does usually. There's even a rumour that says that he snapped at some students... But he's usually so patient!"

Bucky tried not to show any strong emotion but his guilt suddenly reached a whole new level: he wouldn't be _that_ conceited and pretend that Steve's weird behaviour was a direct consequence of their fight, since he believed that the death of Sam's grandmother had taken its toll on the teacher as well, but he couldn't deny that he had his share of responsibility in it. He had seen the pain on Steve's face that last Friday, seen how badly _he_ had hurt his lover and... How would Steve ever forgive him?

Bucky did his best to swallow the lump lodged in his throat and asked his son, eager to switch topics:

"Do you need any help with your homework?"

"Not really. I have a paper to write for history class, due in a few days. Will you reread it when I'm done, please?"

"Of course," Bucky assured him, and he kissed the top of his boy's head before he added, "I'll leave you to it. If you need any help, just ask, okay?"

Alexei nodded and Bucky left the living-room, also catching Zima's attention so that the dog would follow him instead of staying with the child. He knew what would happen to his son's concentration if their dog remained in the same room as Alexei while he was supposed to do his homework: it would result in an ecstatic dog enjoying his petting session thoroughly, while the homework stayed on the table, completely forgotten.

Bucky retreated in his study with Zima, who then proceeded to lie down at his feet and roll on his back to get his belly tickled. The young man complied but his mind was completely elsewhere, just as it had been for the past few days. He should follow Clint's advice and call Steve, he thought...

Even if he did call, would the teacher answer him? If their roles were reversed, Bucky could tell that he probably wouldn't, just so it would piss off the other. But Steve... God, Steve was such a _good_ man, he was almost certain that the blond wouldn't give him the cold shoulder if he was the one to make the first step. Plus, they had to start somewhere, right ? They couldn't solve their problems if they played hide-and-seek forever... Ah ! Look at him, being all wise and responsible... Fuck, he should have been like this way earlier so that they would have avoided this mess in the first place.

Nodding to himself firmly, Bucky grabbed his phone then faltered a little as he dialled the number. _Answer, please, answer..._

The loud and shrill tones followed each other while the young man kept the phone pressed against his ear but no one answered, and he was just this close to throw the device against the wall out of frustration when he heard a click.

"Hello?" Steve said.

Oh shit. He had overestimated himself: he wasn't ready to hear Steve's voice, like a punch in his guts, and he hadn't realised how much he'd missed the warmth spreading in his stomach just by hearing it and...

"Bucky?" the teacher called.

Fuck. Yeah, answering would be a good idea.

"Hey," he uttered at last, fighting the hard lump in his throat. "I... How are you?"

He realised how dumb a question it was even as the words escaped his mouth, and he fought the urge to facepalm as he hurried to say:

"Wait, no, I'm sorry, you... I mean, obviously, everything's not peachy. I... I heard about your friend's grandma. I'm sorry."

The teacher didn't immediately reply and Bucky suddenly feared that he had hung up.

"Steve?" he asked tentatively.

"Y... yeah, I'm there," the blond answered with a breathy voice - great, now, Bucky had probably managed to make him cry. "Thank you. I feel a little better... Well, at least less crushed than last week. I... I got your text the other day."

Oh. So he _had_ received it. Meaning that Steve hadn't replied on purpose, either because he didn't want anything to do with Bucky at the moment or maybe because... No. Stop. Fuck, he really needed to learn how to silence his loud brain: for all he knew, Steve could have seen the text and forgotten to reply because he was with Sam's family. So, even though he wondered, he didn't ask why Steve hadn't answered him. After all, now wasn't the right time to sound accusatory.

"Steve..." he started with some hesitation, "Do you think we could... meet up and talk? We... _I_ have a lot to tell you but that's not something I should do over the phone."

Again, his words were met with silence; only this time around, he knew that Steve hadn't hung up but was considering his suggestion - and Bucky kept his fingers crossed. The teacher had every reason to be mad and ignore his attempts at reconciliation: if he was honest with himself, Bucky knew that the more he thought about it, the more unlikely it seemed that Steve might have cheated on him. So yeah, if the blond male wanted to tell him to fuck off, he would have the right to.

"Bucky," Steve began, struggling with words, "I... Listen, I... I want to. Talk to you. We _need_ to but I... I need time. I just lost Ella, I kind of lost you too and I... I can't right now."

The young man closed his eyes and heard Zima whine softly as his fingers stopped caressing his belly; Bucky resumed his petting, throat constricting as he heard the pain in Steve's voice, mixed with his own sorrow rising from the knowledge that they had been led to this point by his own mistakes and nothing else. Well, at least Steve had called him Bucky, not James - it had to mean something already.

"I understand..." he whispered, the words coming out muffled and a little croaky. "Then... Whenever you're ready..."

"Yeah. Thanks," Steve answered - hearing his brittle voice didn't make Bucky feel any better. "So... I'll see you then, I guess."

"Okay," Bucky swallowed thickly, wondering when that _then_ would take place. "Wait, Steve?"

"I'm still there."

"Why did you answer my call?" the young man asked, almost sounding desperate. "I'm glad you did, don't get me wrong, but... Why?"

He needed to know: maybe Steve had answered just to be polite but also _maybe_ because they still had a chance together, to come back to the way they were before and...

"I wanted to hear your voice," the teacher whispered in an undertone, so softly that Bucky almost missed it.

A silly smile started to grow on the young man's lips and it didn't falter even as Steve hung up immediately after these words. It didn't really matter: it would take time but _they still had a chance_. And this time, he wouldn't screw up.

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading ! If you want to, you may listen to Nazareth - Love hurts, [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GRJaZdodEgI). Also, Klaus Meine is the singer from Scorpions, you may listen to Still loving you [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7pOr3dBFAeY).
> 
> I will try to post the next chapter as soon as possible but I'll need some sleep as well, so... Bear with me ;) In the meantime and if you want, I published a one-shot a few days ago, you may read it [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7055425). Until next time ! :)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone ! I'm so sorry this chapter is a little late, I said that my updates would be more regular since I was done with my exams but... Long story short, the owner of the place where I ride horses threw us out (riders, coaches and horses) so we had to find a place for 30 horses or so... We found old stables but they have been abandoned for three years so we have much work to do (rebuild, clean, and do all kinds of things that I never thought I would be doing) but the most important thing is that our horses are all fine (go on my [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/evil_keshi/) to see their pictures ! :D) I've been busy but here comes the chapter at last !
> 
> All mistakes in Alexei's lines are intentional. The Russian translations are in the end notes. Enjoy !

  


Remember when Alexei said that his father hadn't touched his piano in all weekend, which meant that he didn't feel alright? Well, scratch that: now, it was actually like Bucky was glued to the white and black keys, as if he could only breathe when he played music. Monday, Tuesday, now Wednesday, and it seemed that his папа had only left his piano bench to drive him to school, go to work or eat dinner with him. He didn't even sleep properly, Alexei knew that: his father might not play music at night so that he wouldn't wake him up, but then he spent his nights filling notation paper, endless notes and symbols making up music sheet that he eventually crushed or threw in the bin (now overflowing with creased balls of paper.)

This only amounted to one thing: his dad was trying to compose and apparently, he had a hard time doing so. Alexei didn't ask but he supposed the piece was meant for Steve or at least, involved him. Did his father want to create a piece to express his love and get his boyfriend back ? Or was he trying to get rid of his feelings, in a sort of... of... What was the word Steve had used at school? Ca... Catharsis?

The boy still didn't know what exactly had happened between his father and his lover; his папа didn't want to share the past events with him but Alexei was certain that he still loved Steve - and vice versa.

They weren't talking to each other though, not even through an intermediary - him. At school, Steve was trying to go back to his usual self after his loss but everyone, students and teachers alike, could see that he hadn't quite managed that - not yet. His grins had turned into wan smiles and he looked tired, which, as a result, kept him tense and edgy; although Alexei knew that love could not be the remedy to everything, he often wondered whether he'd deal better with the loss of "his" grandma if he had his father by his side.

As for his father... Apart from his obsessive efforts to get something he liked out of his composition skills, he didn't let his emotions show, not when they were about Steve. Alexei believed that he was doing it for him, to avoid making him worry if he saw his father any sadder than he had already, but he couldn't say that it proved effective. On the contrary: he grew more concerned, with every night that his father spent awake, that he would exhaust himself.

In his eyes, the best solution was that Steve and his папа got back together: no more sadness, no more grunts of frustration towards the piano, no more tired teacher - or less tired, it worked too. But how could they achieve that if they didn't talk at all? Would they just... go on like this? Would they never ever speak to each other again and live, miserable, apart from each other?

Ah, to think that, in his head, Alexei had almost pictured them married already! Yes, he might have been cautious at first while he didn't know _who_ his father was dating but once he'd found out about Steve... They looked so nice together and his teacher could always make that huge smile blossom on his father's face... He had never seen this happiness in his папа before. The boy was convinced that they were _made_ for each other and that they still wanted to be together themselves, even if they didn't know how to proceed to come to that point, so there was no way he would let them waste what they could have (and had) together.

They wanted to be stubborn? Fine, no problem: Alexei would show them that he was the _stubbornest_ of them all.

  


  


Steve would not count the hours. He refused to. He already knew it had been eight days since his argument with Bucky and, consequently, the last time he had seen the man but these few days seemed to have lasted an eternity. They had never _not_ seen each other for such a long time, even back when they were not dating: they used to meet at least once a week, every Friday night, after Alexei's tutoring sessions.

However, on this Friday evening, Steve was alone, forlornly drinking a cup of warm tea on his couch, in a weak attempt at making himself feel better. But he was alone with his thoughts and his sadness: while he had spent the past few evenings with Sam, his friend was currently with his family. He felt grateful that Sam, even though he was deeply affected by his grandmother's passing, had taken some time for him, to be by his side now that Bucky wasn't. In a way, they had suffered together, sharing the common pain of their loss, but they had also comforted each other to the best of their ability. They had reminded each other of some anecdotes about Ella, memories from their childhood; it might have been painful at first but in the end, Steve felt like this had been healing, for the both of them: they would rather remember Ella like the strong and funny woman she had been than cry over her death.

Tonight though, Sam wasn't there. Steve didn't want to call Brock nor any other of his colleagues-slash-friends to have a night out or anything of the like, which meant that he was doomed to stay home alone. He would have welcomed the slightest distraction, anything to keep his mind off matters he did not particularly want to think about. Those hadn't changed since the past week, although now, the future seemed a little brighter - and yet, he didn't dare get his hopes up. Bucky's phone call, that Monday, had warmed his heart a little: he had been relieved to hear that the young man wanted to talk and the way Bucky had phrased it hinted that he had understood his mistake or at least, that he knew he had done or said something wrong.

If he was honest with himself, Steve only had one desire: rush to Bucky's place and finally have that talk, so that they could kiss and make up - well, if he was right and his boyfriend wanted to apologise for his hurtful words. However, when he had explained the situation to Sam last week, his friend had gently reminded him that he needed to be careful with his heart and that maybe taking some time off to sort through his feelings might be a good idea. So, the teacher had listened to Sam, the voice of reason, and he had to admit that it had been a wise and responsible decision, no matter how hard it was to think about Bucky and not be able to see him or touch him.

Suddenly, as Steve was settling a little more comfortably in the middle of his pillows and watched the snow fall outside, cupping his teacup to warm up his hands, his cell phone vibrated on the coffee table and startled him. Glancing at the screen, Steve had a second surprise: the displayed number was Alexei's, which he had entered in his phone a few weeks ago, around Christmas. The boy didn't use his phone much: mostly to get in touch with his dad whenever he rode the bus home and sometimes to text Matthew, now that the other child had become his best friend.

However, the kid had never called nor texted Steve, so the teacher immediately jumped on his phone to take the call: this was probably important, maybe Alexei had a problem and couldn't reach his father or maybe _his father_ was the one in trouble and the boy had not been able to think of anyone but him to help.

"Hello?"

"Steve!" Alexei exclaimed once the teacher answered the call, sounding relieved. "Hi! I hope I'm not bothering you?"

"No, of course not! Tell me, are you okay?"

"Yeah," the boy said, although Steve heard his slight hesitation, "but, uh... Hey, I know you told to me you won't tutor me this week but... Are you sure you can't make it? I have this huge history paper to turn in for Mrs. Carter on Monday but I... I'm losing my English, Steve! Everything confused, I don't know why but I can't write a thing !"

"Alright, alright, Alexei, breathe a little," Steve gently enjoined him as he heard the child's panicked voice. "Do you have any precise question? One I can answer on the phone? I won't storm in like this, not when your father doesn't know that I... Wait, can't he help you?"

"He's working late at the studio, it's Friday," Alexei reminded him, before he pleaded, "Steve, you're my only chance not to fail... It won't take too long, just help me get things straight, please? If dad comes back and you don't want to see him, there's the backdoor. Or the window."

Steve let out a laugh at that, halfway between genuine amusement and disbelief. He considered Alexei's words for a few more seconds then he nodded to himself.

"Okay," he agreed. "Give me thirty minutes and I'll be there. But I'm not staying long!"

The boy thanked him profusely before hanging up and Steve took two or three minutes to pinch the bridge of his nose and inhale, deeply and slowly. He hoped he would not regret his decision if Bucky showed up before he was gone. He wondered, though, what could have thrown off Alexei, to the point that he would require urgent tutoring: the boy had progressed so much in the few months they had known each other and now, over the two minutes their phone call had lasted, he had made more mistakes than over a week.

Steve gulped down the tea left in his cup, then stood up to set it on the kitchen table, fully aware that he would need some more comfort once he would come back from the house where he would relive happy memories of his relationship with Bucky. Maybe he should stop on his way to buy some chocolate: nothing more comforting than a hot cup of tea, a piece (or two) of chocolate and a good book to read in front of the window, watching the snow fall. Maybe he should go with _Romeo and Juliet_ , just to torture himself a little more? (Maybe not.)

The teacher grabbed his coat, scarf and beanie, before he made his way outside and into his car; once he was seated behind the wheel, he closed his eyes and breathed in calmly some more, trying to avoid an asthma attack. It had been years since his last one (well, violent one, he should say) but ever since his argument with Bucky, he constantly felt like his lungs were too tight, his chest narrow and compressing the oxygen, as if he stood on the edge of an actual attack. Hearing his boyfriend's voice on the phone the other day had both loosened the knot in his lungs and tightened it even more.

Eventually, Steve turned the key into the ignition and drove, carefully because of the snow still falling steadily on the streets and the sidewalks, until he reached Bucky's place. The small garden at the front was hidden under a growing layer of white and the sky was turning darker by the second; the light coming from inside the house and illuminating the garden through the window of the living-room was the only reason why Steve didn't tumble on his way to the front door.

He hurried to ring the doorbell, hoping to get inside and warm up quickly, already feeling the cold seeping under his thick clothes even though he had been outside for less than two minutes. Steve smiled when he heard Zima bark and whine on the other side of the panel and he imagined Alexei, a little desperate and clutching his history notes in his hands as he ran to open the door and...

The door _did_ open, sure, but Alexei wasn't the one standing on the threshold. It was Bucky. _What?_

"B... Bucky?" the teacher stammered, feeling a bit stupid as he did so.

"Steve?" the other answered with wide eyes that showed his surprise. "I... wasn't expecting you."

"Me neither," Steve shot back, before he stammered, "Uh... What are you doing here?"

Bucky tilted his head to the side and Steve had to fight to remain still and not tuck the wayward strand of hair that fell in front of Bucky's eyes behind his ear.

"I... live here," the young man answered slowly, not too sure why Steve was asking him that.

The teacher blushed at that and, feeling like a complete idiot, said in a breath:

"No! Not like that... I mean, I know you live here, obviously, but weren't you supposed to be at the studio this evening? Alexei told me that..."

He went quiet, only now realising that he hadn't seen the kid yet and that maybe he would get in trouble for calling Steve and inviting him to come without his father's knowledge.

"We spent the whole day rehearsing, every evening class has been cancelled," Bucky explained, even as he furrowed his brows. "Look, there's obviously a story behind you being here, so... Come in and then we can talk?"

"Yeah," Steve started, until he realised what he was doing and exclaimed, "Wait, no! I'm sorry, I shouldn't... I'm the one asking you to give me time and here I am, I..."

"Steve," Bucky interrupted him gently. "It's not your fault. You didn't think I'd be there and apparently, Alexei has something to do with this. So come in before you turn into a snowman on my doorstep and explain what my son has done, please?"

It took the teacher three seconds to yield: one to remember Sam's words and ignoring them completely, one to take in Bucky's tired face but genuine smile as his eyes stared at Steve and one to think _I'm so in love with this man_ as he took a step forward and entered the house.

Bucky helped him to take off his coat, maintaining some distance between their bodies so that none of them would find their proximity uncomfortable, but Steve's chest tightened as he realised that they had never needed this before: they used to be all over each other and love it...

He coughed a little when his throat tightened unexpectedly but Bucky either didn't notice or chose not to point it out as he led him to the living-room. Steve was surprised to find the coffee table almost drowning under the notation papers, disorganised and creased for some of them, when he knew that Bucky had always taken great care of his music sheet. He couldn't find any potential explanation to the mess that he was seeing right now.

"So?" Bucky prompted him once they were both sitting on the couch. "What did Alexei do that made you brave the snow and the cold to get here?"

"He asked for some urgent tutoring," Steve explained. "He told me that he had a history paper to do but he was experiencing some trouble with his English and... What?"

The teacher frowned when he saw Bucky shake his head with an indulgent smile and a whisper of _that kid, I swear_.

"Steve..." the young man started, "That paper was due yesterday and I proofread it. His English was fine. I'm sorry but I think Alexei set us up."

The teacher looked at the other man in disbelief. Alexei had... But... Okay, the kid got them good and it wasn't hard to see why exactly he had tried - and succeeded - to gather them together: he wanted to give them the opportunity to talk and make up. Looking beyond the lie, that was sweet of him but... Were they ready to do that?

Steve let out a shaky laugh and massaged his temples with his fingertips; he looked down, aware that Bucky was still staring at him but unable to meet his eyes.

"Where is Alexei now?" he asked lightly, trying to avoid talking about the topic he knew they would have to broach one day or another: their relationship.

"At Matthew's birthday party," the other answered on the same tone.

These words got Steve to look up and his eyebrows arched up in positive surprise.

"You allowed him to go?" he asked with a tiny smile, glad to know that Alexei was currently having fun with his best friend. "That's great."

"Yeah," Bucky slowly nodded. "I... Well, I kept thinking about what you said and... You were right. I talked about it with Alexei and we came down to an agreement. Thanks to you, I guess."

Not knowing what to say to that, Steve shyly ducked his head again, his fingertips fumbling with the fabric of the couch - not a fascinating subject but way easier to look at than Bucky. He could almost feel the weight of the other man's gaze on him, taking in every single detail of his face, and even without seeing Bucky's expression, he knew that he was blaming himself for the dark lines under the teacher's eyes.

"How are you?" Bucky eventually asked. "I know one week isn't enough to get over someone's... passing but... How are you?"

Steve fidgeted when he slowly looked up again and locked eyes with Bucky, feeling the urge, the _need_ to close the distance between them and let his lover hold him against his chest. He remained where he was seated though, longing for an embrace that he couldn't get (yet?)

"I'm... dealing," Steve answered slowly, weighing his words. "But sometimes, it's like I haven't realised yet that she's gone... forever."

Twice this past week, his first reflex upon waking up had been to text Sam or call the retirement home and ask how Ella was doing.

"Do you want to talk about her?" Bucky suggested almost shyly.

The young man could see sorrow in Steve's eyes at the mere mention of his grandma and he wouldn't press the matter any further if the blond didn't want to either, but maybe the teacher needed this, to let out his pain and his grief until he felt better. Bucky hazarded the thought that Steve, being Steve, had felt like he had to be the strong one, the shoulder on which Sam could cry... But what about his own suffering?

"I... No, thanks, I'm... okay," Steve answered, although Bucky noticed his slight hesitation. "But I... Can I show you something?"

Bucky nodded and the teacher stood up, whispering that he would be right back before he made his way to the hall, where his wet coat hanged to the handle of the closet. Digging his fingers in the inside pocket, Steve took out his wallet and brought it back to the living-room, opening it to retrieve a picture. There were actually two pictures in there and Bucky's heart skipped a beat when he realised that one of these, the one Steve had left in his wallet, showed a sweet memory for the both of them: Alexei was sound asleep on Steve's couch, his head on his father's lap, and Bucky had a tinsel wrapped loosely around his neck. Their Christmas Eve... It had happened so long ago, it seemed.

He remembered Steve taking their picture, he remembered having smiled softly at his delighted expression upon seeing the result, but he hadn't imagined that the picture would make it into Steve's wallet - not that Bucky hadn't his own stock of photographs, on the contrary. Every night, he fell asleep with a picture of their smiling faces on his bedside table, one where you could see that they were sharing Steve's scarf.

Bucky tore his eyes away from the wallet to focus on the picture that the teacher was handing over. He took it gingerly and casted a last glance to Steve before looking down to examine the photograph. Three people stood in front of his eyes, two young men and an old woman, whom Bucky immediately identified as Ella - who else could it be ? On her left, a younger Steve was smiling like the sun as he laid an arm across her shoulders while the second man, on her right, was kissing her cheek. And Bucky, even as he thought that this handsome fellow had to be Sam, Steve's best friend and Ella's grandson, realised that he knew him.

He knew him, because he was the man who had hugged Steve and made him believe horrible things about his boyfriend, he was the man Steve had wanted him to meet, he was Steve's _best friend_ and... Bucky was right, this was a huge misunderstanding and _he_ was... Fuck, he was...

"Steve..." he whispered as he gave back the picture and stared into the teacher's so, so blue eyes, "I'm an asshole."

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, haha ! Thank you for reading so far, I'll try to update as soon as possible ! See you :)
> 
> Russian translations:
> 
> Папа/papa - Dad, daddy.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone ! Before I stop babbling and let you enjoy this chapter, just let me thank you all for your support, both on this fic and on my life ! We're slowly reaching the end of the story, as the next chapter will also be the last... I really hope you will enjoy them both, I would hate to disappoint so close to the end !

  


"Steve... I'm an asshole."

Bucky's self-deprecating comment only met a stunned silence during the short while it took Steve to realise that his boyfriend had finally connected the dots between the man the teacher had hugged and the man on the picture, Sam.

The blond male's face softened when he saw how mortified Bucky looked, so sorry for everything: the misunderstanding of the situation, his bad judgement, his bad words and his behaviour, befitting a complete jackass rather than his boyfriend.

"Yeah," Steve agreed with a nod. "You are."

"Fuck," Bucky groaned as he hid his face in his hands. "Fuck, Steve, I'm so sorry..."

The young man took a deep breath as he lifted his head so that he could look the teacher in the eyes and he tried to convey all his sincerity when he apologised:

"I'm sorry, Steve, I really am. At first I didn't even want to believe what I was seeing because I _know_ you aren't like that but then you didn't say a thing and I..."

"Are you saying that this is my fault?" Steve interrupted him, a frown already marring his handsome face.

"No!" Bucky cried out, desperate to make him understand what he was trying to say, poorly so.

"You didn't trust me, Buck," Steve added, looking down.

The pianist felt his eyes prickle at that, both because the words were hard to listen to and because seeing the expression Steve was sporting hurt more than he could have thought. He had disappointed his boyfriend so much... Praying to find the right words, the ones that would find an echo in Steve's heart, Bucky whispered:

"I do trust you. I trust you with Alexei, I..."

Steve, who had looked up as soon as Bucky had started talking, immediately set his gaze down again and the other male winced as he recalled the awful words he had thrown at him on that matter.

"I..." he kept going, swallowing thickly, "I know what I said about you and Alexei. I know I hurt you. I was mad and I also know that's no excuse but... I trust you, Steve, I do."

When the blond male raised his head again, he was blinking rapidly, looking at his boyfriend from under long lashes coated together by the tears he was trying to hold back. Bucky wanted to hug him, keep him in his arms and whisper endless heartfelt apologies, and he wanted to drown Steve in his kisses - but no, he wasn't allowed to, not yet. Maybe not ever, if the teacher refused to forgive him. And even if he forgave him... That didn't mean they would get back together.

"I trust you," Bucky repeated on a tone as firm as he could manage, what with his quavering voice. "I messed up, I know. I... I guess I didn't trust myself."

"You didn't trust yourself?" Steve parroted, a little dumbfounded. "That's something you'll have to explain to me, Buck. Because if I remember properly, you seemed super confident when you accused me of cheating, so much that you didn't realise that you had the whole situation wrong."

Ouch. He probably deserved that, as well as the mix of venom and incomprehension in Steve's voice.

"I know," Bucky said, sounding as miserable as he felt inside. "But you're... Steve, you're my first boyfriend. I told you I wasn't used to relationships, right? I never had anyone in my life before, not like I had you. I used to have one-night stands because I couldn't have relationships, no one wanted to _date_ me. So, when I saw you with Sam, I thought... You could have anyone you want, Steve, so why me?"

The teacher's blue eyes roamed his face, searching, assessing, trying to find out if Bucky seriously believed that he might not be _good enough_. Steve's frown suddenly softened once again as he whispered:

"What is there not to like in you?"

"I..." Bucky started, before the words got stuck in his throat.

Steve's words... reflected the exact same question he had asked himself all those years, shaking at night because his son, the sweetest kid on the planet, apparently was too much, a burden some people didn't want to carry. Sometimes, if Alexei wasn't the reason people preferred banging Bucky rather than dating him, it was because Bucky himself wasn't enough and didn't meet their expectations, so... After seeing Steve with Sam, he had wondered: why would it be different this time?

But they had talked about it, the day of their first kiss; both men wanted a serious relationship and for him, that meant being a family - which Steve had longed for during so many years. That, combined with the fact that Steve Rogers was the most genuine and kind person Bucky had ever met, made him a huge, enormous idiot for even thinking that his boyfriend could ever be unfaithful to him.

"Exactly," Steve added as Bucky kept quiet, his voice a solid rock of certainty. "There is nothing not to like in you, Buck."

It was too much. Before he could even realise it, the droplets of salt that had gathered into the corners of his eyes, so long unshed, finally turned into real, fat tears that went rolling down onto Bucky's cheekbones.

"D... Don't," he sobbed, furiously wiping his left, wet cheek with his fingers. "Steve, don't do that! Don't... Don't comfort me... You're... Fuck, I'm the one who hurt you and it's you reassuring me! I don't deserve that, I don't... Not after..."

"Stop," Steve enjoined him gently, leaning forward and raising his hands to let his fingertips brush his boyfriend's cheeks, so that he could thumb Bucky's tears away himself. "What you did hurt me, you're right. And I was... sad and angry, but I also know that I missed you and that... That feeling, this... craving... It was stronger than my resentment."

That didn't help Bucky to calm down, not at all, but he tried to keep himself from crying any more and even backed away a little, voluntarily depriving himself of the warmth and the appeasement Steve's hands had offered him, even briefly.

"I'm sorry," he repeated once again, feeling like these empty words, no matter how often he said them, never quite managed to convey their true meaning, the weight of the emotions inside him.

"So am I," the blond answered with a sad smile.

"Why?" Bucky croaked. "I'm the guilty one."

"I didn't directly tell you about Ella," Steve explained on a dejected tone, "and maybe that would have saved us this mess. So yes, you fucked up, but I didn't exactly help you to understand the situation."

The young man sniffed a little but he didn't answer and Steve remained silent, too. For a few short seconds, they sat side by side without saying a word, only glancing at each other in an awkward silence, eyes flickering to their hands, their feet, each other's face. Eventually, unable to stand this stillness, Bucky stood up and took a few unsteady steps towards his piano.

"I wanted to apologise properly," he said without looking at Steve while he caressed with a gentle hand the black and white keys of the piano. "I even wanted to write a piece for you, but..."

With a swift, helpless gesture showing the messy living-room and the many notation papers that Zima, currently sleeping under the piano, would take great pleasure in munching, Bucky chuckled sadly to himself.

"I know you're a romantic," the young man told Steve with an hesitant smile, "so I thought maybe you'd like the idea. I tried... many things. I was thinking of a song, a ballad, a sonata maybe, but... Nothing worked the way I wanted it to, it never sounded right."

Turning around to face the teacher, Bucky noticed that the blond had risen to his feet as well, his eyes sweeping over the notation papers scattered everywhere; Steve stood there silently, his entire focus on the abandoned compositions even though Bucky was aware that he knew nothing about music and couldn't read them. That was exactly why he loved playing music for Steve so much, because he truly enjoyed the other man's delighted expression as he could finally match the scribbles on a sheet of paper to actual, harmonious sounds.

"So..." Bucky whispered, before he cleared his throat and spoke more loudly, "I just wanted to apologise to you. Now that's done and I... I don't expect you to take me back after everything I've said and done but... If you could just consider forgiving me..."

"Yeah..." the blond male said softly, coming a little closer to the piano, "I think I can do that."

"Really?" Bucky asked in disbelief as his wide eyes stared at Steve. "That's... Are you seriously forgiving me so easily? Don't I have to... crawl at your feet or something? Make it up to you? Is it even possible for me to un-fuck up? Because I - ummmf!"

Whatever Bucky was going to say died on Steve's lips when the teacher, with a dramatic roll of his eyes, strode toward the piano to grab Bucky's collar and he yanked him forward until their mouths met. Bucky's last proper thought was that it had been way too long since the last time they had kissed.

He quickly forgot everything about thinking though, and to be honest, he forgot everything that didn't involve Steve's lips on his, his neck carefully cradled into Steve's gentle hands, and the delicious way he was trapped between the piano and the teacher's warm body. After more than one week spent worrying and wondering, Bucky could finally feel himself relax in Steve's embrace as his troubles melted away, and he gave in to the kiss like a hungry man would rush at a mouth-watering meal.

The way Bucky's hands rose to hold onto Steve's waist and wrap around his neck was like a well-known dance, a choreography, a rhythm that was easy to fall back on after a time off balance and he welcomed with open arms the feeling of being exactly where he ought to be as he licked into Steve's mouth, revelling into the wet sounds of their mouths as their lips slid over each other, breaking apart only to join again with more passion.

They ended up kissing softly with their fingers laced together and they stumbled as their proximity turned them clumsy, as if they weren't used to be this close to each other anymore. Steve laughed when Bucky had to catch himself on the piano and a low-pitched note resounded in the living-room, startling Zima who then seemed to glare at them as he padded towards the kitchen where no human would disturb his nap.

"Sorry," Steve whispered when the sound died down, "that's the only method I could think of to stop your nonsense."

"You, uh..." Bucky stammered, touching his tingling lips and making Steve's cheeks turn rosy in the process. "Does that mean that you... forgive me? B... But... Why?"

"Didn't you hear anything of what I said?" Steve sighed, although there was a hint of amusement in his voice. "Or do you just want me to repeat that I missed you, until you get sick of it?"

"Yeah, no, I heard you the first time," Bucky quickly answered (even though he wouldn't be opposed to receive more kisses and sweet words from the teacher), "But, Steve... Give me one reason to stay with me, with everything that happened... Why would you still want me?"

The blond man stared at him with wide blue eyes, as if he couldn't believe that Bucky hadn't understood the motive behind his actions yet - unless he was just being stubborn.

"Because I love you, you _absolute_ moron," Steve finally said, going for an exasperated look that ended up soft and fond instead.

It took Bucky a few second of dumbfounded silence to process the new information but once he'd fully absorbed it, his heart leapt in his chest and started beating so fast that he feared for a moment that it would jump right out of his body. Steve loved him. He _loved_ him and had told him so without the slightest trace of doubt, therefore joining the handful of people who had ever said the same words to him and meant it - his parents, once, and his sisters, Alexei and Clint.

And he knew, he was certain that Steve didn't love him for his ass and the nights they spent together, tangled in the sheets and sweaty as their bodies danced and rubbed all over each other, but that the teacher loved him for _him_ , for who he was, flaws included. That was why Steve had chosen to forgive him, because even though he had made a mistake, the blond could see beyond and he was still willing to keep going with him.

Bucky reacted the only way he knew to: he surged forward to kiss Steve again, trying to make him understand what he couldn't say with words right now. The teacher answered this new kiss with enthusiasm, nibbling onto the offered lips, and Bucky moaned as their tongues touched and played the game they knew so well. Of their own accord, his hands circled the blond man's waist and ventured down, caressing Steve's ass through the thick fabric of his pants, and he pushed forward until the both of them were so close that they were rubbing against each other.

He heard Steve's breathing hitch and felt his short nails dig into the skin of his neck when their crotches met, which spurred on Bucky even further; the young man kept a hand on his boyfriend's lower back while his other went up and slipped under his jumper, warm fingertips leaving fire in their wake. Steve's skin was hot and trembling under his hands and his nipples were hard already, sensitive and receptive to Bucky's lightest caress.

They both knew where this was going if they didn't stop there: they would end up naked either on the couch or on Bucky's bed, if they could make it that far, and they would make love with urgency, as if they hadn't touched each other in years. Honestly, Bucky was game. But when his hands travelled down and gently tugged at his boyfriend's belt, Steve's fingers suddenly wrapped around his wrists and the blond male broke the kiss.

"W... Wait," he panted, breathless. "Stop."

Bucky immediately stepped back, as if burned, and worry crept onto his face as he asked:

"What did I do? Is it... too much, too soon? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... hurt you, or..."

Steve shushed him by placing a finger on his lips and Bucky swallowed back the words that were on the tip of his tongue.

"You didn't hurt me," the teacher told him, "and trust me, I was enjoying what we were doing. But you're right, it's too soon. I meant what I said, that I forgive you and that I love you, but... Can we go slow with this? I don't want to..."

Steve trailed off, his hesitation written all over his face, but Bucky still heard the unsaid words: they needed to build up their trust in each other again before anything other than kisses happened. Or mostly, Steve had to trust Bucky again, and the young man understood that perfectly well. He, too, would think it twice over before giving his heart to someone who had nearly ruined everything between them.

The teacher might be an amazing and forgiving man but he had feelings and fragility in him too, just like every other human being, so the least he could do to protect himself was to keep some distance with Bucky... Until the day Steve would deem that fully opening up to the young man was safe but until then, he had to make sure that Bucky would not step on his heart again. Maybe it would take some time for Steve to be certain of it but Bucky was ready to wait, he would be patient. Besides, he knew that he deserved this treatment and he would never try to force Steve, coax him into doing anything that he wasn't comfortable with.

"I understand," he eventually told the teacher with a gentle smile, "we'll take it slow, then, just like when we started dating. If it's okay?"

"Yes," Steve replied with a grateful and relieved nod.

"Good. And if I do something, anything, that's too much or makes you uncomfortable, you tell me, okay? I... I don't want to screw up again."

"Okay," Steve agreed. "Just so you know, kissing is fine. Making out too. Just... Nothing sexual for now, please?"

It would hurt too much, the teacher thought, to give himself to Bucky now, when neither of them could be sure that their relationship would survive the bumpy road they had just left - they wanted it to, of course, but even a strong will wouldn't warrant their success. Bucky was right, Steve truly was a romantic, the kind of person who would offer flowers without any particular reason and loved candlelit dinners as much as he liked just walking down the street with his boyfriend's hand in his. In his eyes, sex wasn't just sex, and he couldn't even fathom the thought of having one-night stands; he understood that some people, like Bucky, didn't mind having sex without the slightest emotional connection to their partner (which was why it was so new for Bucky to have someone loving him for more than his body) but Steve couldn't do it.

So, the blond couldn't give in to his deepest desires and take Bucky to bed, not right now, not when he feared that these moments were only a break in their troubles, a truce. He didn't like this pessimism but still, he wouldn't just ignore it and go ahead: he wouldn't be able to give all his attention to Bucky anyway.

"Nothing sexual," the other man confirmed - and Steve could tell that he meant it, that he wasn't agreeing just to make it up to the teacher.

"Thank you, Buck..."

"You really don't have to thank me," the pianist whispered, tentatively taking Steve's hand in his own.

Steve could almost hear his boyfriend's relief when he squeezed Bucky's fingers and he caught the subtle way that his entire body relaxed, as if a heavy weight had just been lifted of his shoulders.

"Do you... Do you want to stay?" Bucky asked with as much hesitation as he had showed while taking Steve's hand. "I mean, not the night, obviously, but... For a little while?"

"Yeah," the blond answered with a smile. "Yeah, I'd like that. Do you think you could play the piano for me? Even if you said that you couldn't compose the right piece, I'd like to hear you. Please?"

After a quick and merry nod from Bucky, it only took a few seconds to rid the piano bench from all the notation papers and then the young man sat down; he noticed that Steve showed no sign of wanting to join him so he took his place in the centre, while the teacher leaned against the side of the piano. The musician couldn't help it: he smiled when he realised that, even though his boyfriend hadn't settled down next to him, Steve's eyes didn't stray away from him, focused on his face, his fingers, his everything.

Bucky didn't have to think for long about his choice of music: it struck him like thunder would and his fingertips immediately started to move across the white and black keys. Honestly, he wasn't sure that Steve would know the song, seeing that he wasn't a big fan of rock bands, but Bucky soon heard him hum softly to himself, proof that he knew (and liked?) the song that the pianist had chosen.

Bucky kept playing and a smile lit up his face as he sung the lyrics in an undertone so that they still mostly heard the piano. _We sailed on together, we drifted apart, and here you are by my side_...

Just like their story. There had been pain, they had hurt each other (or, well, he had hurt Steve, mostly) but eventually, here they were, on the path to healing.

When the music reached its end, Bucky let the last notes resound softly around them, his fingers still resting lightly on the keys of the piano. Seconds later, Steve's hand covered his and Bucky smiled, eyes crinkling as if blinded already by the bright future he could see coming their way.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky plays the song Open Arms by the band Journey, you may listen to it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xlO4CN8-LRU). See you soon for the last chapter ! ;)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone ! Here we are, the last chapter... It was hard to write and it took some time, I guess I didn't want to end this story. Thank you for your endless patience, support and comments ! This story is my first long Stucky fic and I'm overwhelmed by all the positive feedback I've received, you are all awesome ! Thank you !

  


"Quick, quick!" Alexei shouted, pulling on Steve's sleeve in hopes to make him go faster, "We'll be late!"

The kid looked so happy already at the thought of seeing his father onstage that he wasn't paying much attention to his surroundings and nearly tripped over the first stairs in front of the entrance of the venue, but Steve only had to reach out to catch the boy before he could hurt himself.

"Careful," he said, "you would not want to end up in the hospital the night of your father's show, right?"

Alexei nodded sheepishly but Steve's warning didn't trample on his enthusiasm and he tugged on his sleeve again.

"Come on, it starts in fifteen minutes and we have to find our seats!"

"Yeah, just wait a second, we lost... Hey, Sam! Over here!"

The blond male waved at his best friend as he emerged from the crowd gathered in front of the gates and Sam jogged up to them with an apologetic smile.

"Sorry," he told them (especially addressing the kid), "I swear I was only distracted for one second but you had vanished already! You're so impatient... You know we still have twenty minutes left, uh?"

"Only fourteen, now," Alexei pointed out, before he grabbed both Steve's and Sam's wrists. "Now come!"

Steve and Sam complied and the teacher chuckled softly to himself, glad to see that his friend and Alexei seemed to get along perfectly well, even though they had met, what, twenty minutes ago? Tonight was the big night, the night of Bucky's show with the dancers, and the pianist had been busy the whole day with the last rehearsals, so Steve had picked up Alexei at the Barnes' place before doing the same with Sam who, as the blonde had promised, would meet his boyfriend after the show.

The situation between Steve and Bucky had evolved during the past month, to Alexei's delight, and now they had started to take their meals together again on Friday nights, just like they used to do even before they dated. However, the teacher was almost certain that this positive evolution wouldn't keep Sam from threatening Bucky, if only for a second or two, promising him a painful and slow death if he dared break Steve's heart (again.)

"Tickets, please," a woman standing at the gate and clad in a black ensemble, consisting of a pencil skirt and a blazer with a red, silky jabot, asked them with a smile as they stopped next to her.

"Sure," Steve said, nodding as he patted his pockets, only to frown when his hands found nothing at all. "Uh, one minute please, I..."

With a deep, deep sigh, Sam gently pushed his friend aside and winked at Alexei as he proudly presented their tickets to the hostess, who offered him a bright smile - which was answered with a cheeky grin - and checked the two men and the child off the list.

"Enjoy the show," she told them, her appreciative gaze lingering on Sam.

Steve nearly had to imitate Alexei and grab his friend's wrist to get him to move but Sam thankfully took the hint and followed them through the gate and into the brightly lit hall of the venue.

"I'm pretty sure you should give her your number when we come back," the teacher said with a snort. "I don't think you two had the time to check each other out properly enough."

"Pretty sure you should focus on your own love life, Stevie," his friend shot back, elbowing him in the ribs and earning himself a yelp.

"And _I_ am pretty sure we'll be late," Alexei pointed out, interrupting their friendly banter before Steve could mention that Sam's words were a low blow. "Hurry up!"

The blond male seldom caught this glimpse of Alexei's bossier personality but he thought that he liked it, he liked to see that the boy wasn't scared to speak his mind in front of him and even acted or reacted towards him in the same ways - or almost - he would with his father, and this precious acceptance meant a lot to Steve. He treaded in Alexei's footsteps sporting a huge grin on his face, that widened even more as he caught sight of the piano on the stage, quite visible even though Bucky only had a supporting role - Steve still wasn't over it, he couldn't accept the fact that his boyfriend, a man so talented, gifted even, when it came to music, couldn't be propelled a little more up front so that his talent would get the acknowledgement it deserved.

Steve still knew next to nothing about music but he had a way with words and he could speak for hours about the emotions Bucky stirred in his deepest core. No one could remain stone-faced while listening to him so he hoped with his whole heart that the many people attending the show tonight would perceive the pianist's dedication to his music. Even if this was mainly a dance show, Bucky did deserve some of the spotlight (if not all of it, but Steve was not objective on this point.)

Alexei only stopped squirming on his chair when the lights in the large room dimmed until they lit up the stage alone, focusing on the piano, and stars filled his eyes when he finally saw his father appear from behind the curtain, bow lightly to the audience and eventually walk up to the piano.

Steve understood the feeling: Bucky had not touched the keys yet and already, the teacher's heart was swelling with pride at the mere vision of the young man in his dark suit, radiating happiness as he lightly rested his fingers upon the black and white keys. That was his man up there and even though he wasn't playing for the Bolshoi Theatre, Bucky was still fulfilling a dream of his, as he sat exposed to the eyes and ears of the spectators.

"It's him," he whispered to Sam with a stupid smile. "That's Bucky."

"I _know_ ," his friend answered with a roll of his eyes, "Not like there's a bunch of pianists on stage tonight who make you go all starry-eyed, right?"

"Right..." Steve mumbled, a little (and stupidly) offended that his best friend didn't share his and Alexei's excitement.

Then again, maybe the teacher should try to understand the situation from Sam's point of view: the other man was about to meet a guy whom he knew had hurt his best friend and honestly, had the roles been reversed, Steve would have been wary too. However, Bucky had been nothing but an angel over the past month so... If he hadn't already, Steve would have forgiven him anyway, because he loved his pianist and he knew that Bucky hadn't been kind to him during the last weeks just to make it up to him and soothe him. No, Bucky had only been true to himself, although more distant (no teasing touches, not as many intense kisses as before) and there was no other reason to this behaviour than the fact that Steve had requested it and Bucky had agreed. Maybe Sam could give him at least one chance, right?

Steve's eyes snapped back to the stage as the first notes of music rose freely in the air and from this moment on, the young man was unable to focus on anything other than the pianist, even when the dancers made their entrance. Oh, he was certain that they moved with grace and subtle, impressive strength but... They could not have the slightest effect on him, not when it was the music he was focusing on, enraptured.

The show seemed to last an eternity and only one second at the same time and although Steve knew that he could have private concerts any time he wanted, he found himself wishing it had lasted longer so that Bucky could have soaked some more into the blissful feeling of being onstage, in the bright light. The teacher jumped to his feet to clap, unable to restrain the huge grin spreading his lips as his boyfriend bowed again in front of the spectators, suddenly looking sheepish and a bit rosy in the cheeks.

"Alexei," he called once the last dancers had bowed, twice, and disappeared behind the heavy curtain, "let's make our way backstage to find your dad, okay? Sam, you're coming with us?"

"Sure," his best friend answered with a smile (and Steve couldn't help but think that it looked a little threatening. Poor Bucky.)

Accessing the rooms backstage was made fairly easy thanks to Alexei, who managed to find Maria; the woman thanked them profusely for their support on the show and then led them to the dressing-rooms, completely ignoring the _restricted access_ signs.

"Bucky told me so much about you!" she addressed Steve while she passed by dozens of other dancers, "I knew you would be here tonight, he didn't stop repeating it. I think the poor boy was scared to mess up in front of you but he was wonderful, don't you think?"

She didn't wait for his answer but stopped in front of a door and gave two gentle knocks, followed by a shout:

"Bucky! Loverboy's here for you!"

Steve spluttered while Sam started to laugh but the blond didn't get the time to glare at him: the door opened out of the blue and the teacher suddenly got an armful of overexcited pianist.

"Steve!!" Bucky exclaimed, hugging him so tight that the blond male thought he heard his ribs crack. "I'm so glad you're here! Did you enjoy the show? I almost tripped on my feet when I had to get onstage but I made it, it was... Oh, солнышко, what did you think of the costumes? Remember when you were seven, or maybe eight, you had this cute angel costume; it looked like the ones we used for the third dance and... Oh, uh, hi."

Bucky cut his rambling short when he finally registered the presence of another person behind his boyfriend and his son, and it didn't take him long to recognise the third man.

"Uh, you're Sam, right?" he asked hesitantly, unsure of the way the other would react, since Steve's friend most likely knew about his previous bout of jealousy and the disastrous consequences that had followed.

"Yes," Steve interfered before Sam could say anything. "Sam, this is Bucky Barnes; Bucky, this is Sam Wilson."

"Yeah, I'm his _best friend_ ," the latter added.

"Hi," Bucky greeted the other man as cheerfully as he could, trying to ignore the way Sam had stressed his last words - but he probably deserved it. "Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise... Steve told me a lot about you," Sam replied, rising a brow.

"I bet," Bucky mumbled, now even less certain of what he should say to make a good impression (but perhaps it was already too late for that.)

Either he sensed his father's discomfort or simply had a knack at deflating tense situations, Alexei suddenly asked:

"Папа, where are the toilets? I have to go..."

"I can show you," Steve answered, "I think I saw a restroom on our way here, come on."

The child immediately nodded and the teacher sent an apologetic smile to his boyfriend, who returned a tense smile of his own. Steve didn't like the idea of leaving Sam and Bucky alone together, even for a short while, but he knew that the relation between these two wouldn't get anywhere if his best friend wasn't given the opportunity to tell Bucky exactly what was on his mind.

"Be nice," he whispered discreetly in Sam's ear as he walked away with Alexei.

The young man nodded and remained silent until he was certain that Steve and the kid were too far to hear them and he smiled like a shark as his eyes settled back on Bucky.

"So..." he drawled.

"Yeah... I'm sorry for what happened," the pianist said, praying that Sam wouldn't make a scene in front of all the dancers from the studio and worse, in front of Maria.

"Look, man," Sam told him, "I don't want an apology, Steve said you've done that already. I'm cool with it if he says he is. But... Steve's like my brother, you know? So, hurt him again and I assure you they won't find your body. Understood?"

Bucky swallowed nervously, unable to decide whether the guy was deadly serious or only messing with him. Maybe he should not try to know for sure.

"Understood," he confirmed.

The grin that nearly split Sam's face in two as he heard that was as unexpected as it was bright and Bucky had to fight the urge to rub his eyes to make sure that he was really seeing this happy expression on the man's face.

"Perfect, so that's settled!" Sam exclaimed. "By the way, you were cool back there, really. I'm not a big fan of piano myself, I stuck my fingers between the keyboard and the lid when I was a kid but damn, I liked the way you played!"

"Uh, thanks, I guess?" Bucky replied with hesitation, somewhat confused as to how they had gone from death threats to talking like actual buddies - not that he would complain but still, he felt like he had missed something in this conversation.

Steve saved him by coming back, quite in a hurry, probably to make sure that his best friend and his boyfriend weren't busy punching each other.

"Glad to see you're both alive," the teacher only half-joked as he caught up to them. "Buck, you're ready to go?"

"Let me grab my bag and I'm all yours," he said with a much more relaxed smile now that Steve stood nearby again.

They were about to leave, Sam and Alexei walking ahead and apparently in the middle of a serious and intense discussion about angel costumes, when Bucky held Steve back by a mere caress of his fingertips on the blond male's wrist.

"Buck?"

"I didn't get to say it before but... Thanks for coming, Steve," the pianist blurted out. "It means a lot. And I know I already apologised but I'm so, so sorry for everything. To think that I could have ruined all of this... I'm sorry. And I love you."

Bucky felt the telltale prickle of tears at the corners of his eyes when Steve wrapped his arms around him in a tight embrace and his own hands came up to hold onto his boyfriend's broad shoulders.

"I know," Steve whispered in his neck, his voice coming out a little muffled. "It's okay. You don't have to keep apologising every day, Buck... I forgave you, remember?"

"Yeah," the other man nodded with a tiny smile that Steve couldn't see as he still hid his handsome face in the crook of his neck. "I remember. Thank you."

Steve took a step back and smiled gently as he slowly freed his boyfriend from his arms, but he kept one of his hands in his own and kissed its back ever so softly.

"Hey," Bucky started, "don't feel obligated but... Would you like to spend the night at my place? Just to sleep, nothing else. I mean... I miss you. I can't stand the cold spot next to me in bed anymore. So, uh, what do you say?"

Steve stared at his boyfriend for a second before making his decision. It had been a month, or even a little more than that, since they had agreed to take it slow. And they had. Gentle kisses, some handholding, some meals together, both with and without Alexei, but nothing more. And to be honest, Steve missed Bucky too - how could he not? They loved each other and he felt ready to take that next step, so...

Steve squeezed his boyfriend's hand and smiled as he simply said:

"Yes."

  


  


(Steve said the exact same word three years later when Bucky went down on one knee and asked _will you marry me?_ )

  


  


  


The end

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you so much for reading this story ! I'm already thinking about the next fic I'll write, I have something in store involving Cop!Bucky. What do you think of it ? Here's a short excerpt to give you the idea, feel free to give me your thoughts and opinions ;)
> 
>   
> 
> 
> Follow the darkness 'til it follows you
> 
>   
> 
> 
> When Bucky walks out of the car that night, around three in the fucking freezing morning, he wonders to himself why people can't wait until decent hours to murder someone. No, seriously: _why_ ? They will get caught anyway, Fury will make sure of that, so would it be that hard for them to plan their murders during the day ? After a good night of soundless sleep, when Bucky doesn't have to rely on bad coffee from the police station to actually stay awake ?
> 
> Ah. Murderers have never been known for taking police officers' opinions in consideration anyway. Assholes. Tonight, one more person has managed to get on Bucky's bad side (there's a whole crowd there, from his tenth grade math teacher to every single assassin he's managed to arrest with his team.)
> 
> So, to sum it up, here's the situation: murder at the _Boys' Boudoir_ in the middle of the night, Bucky and his coffee, a whole new case to work on. In the cold and the dark. Nothing unusual, yay !
> 
>   
> 
> 
> Thanks again, for everything !


End file.
